A Father's Love
by Vancouver-Canuck-Girl
Summary: A different kind of love story
1. Prologue

_So many held my hand this time around and I'm so thankful for the friendship this fandom has given me. I'm going to give a huge thank you now to some very special people before this story begins. Lore, Alanna, Tam, Shell, Bee, Hadley, Cracked, Maggie: I love you all. Thanks for building me up when I feel like I'm crumbling. To every reader - thanks for giving this story a chance. xo  
_

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PROLOGUE

My life, my entire world, revolves around Isabella. I've loved her from the moment we met; she captivated me in the blink of an eye. There was an immediate, intense, and overwhelming need to always protect her. She isn't a part of my heart, she's what makes it beat. On the day she was born, when her tiny little fist grabbed hold of my pinky finger and held on for dear life, I knew I needed her as much as she needed me.

At eighteen, I became a single father. It has been a hard, well-fought journey filled with highs and lows, laughter, and more tears than I care to admit.

I learned how to host epic tea parties; she learned how to toss a football. She taught me how to jump rope and I taught her how to spit watermelon seeds. I can recite the names of every Disney Princess and she can identify classic cars by their emblems.

We survived bra shopping, wardrobe malfunctions, a horribly awkward rendition of the birds and the bees talk, and how boys have grabby hands and dirty minds.

Tea parties and boys aside, it's been up to me to teach her to be a decent human being. I like to think I've done an amazing job and haven't raised an asshole — aren't there too many of those in the world already? The day her mother walked out I became everything my daughter could ever need. Mother _and_ father, cheerleader, fierce supporter, loyal friend, fair and just disciplinarian, encouraging coach, and positive mentor.

Isabella was raised to have integrity, self-respect, self-reliance, and confidence; yet she's also empathetic, loving, and kind. Every day I remind my daughter she is smart, strong, and beautiful - in that order. She can do anything and overcome any obstacle she faces, just as I have done.

I always encourage Isabella to take chances. Tell her failure is an opportunity to practice being brave. I let her know mistakes happen and it's okay if they do. As my Dad told me, mistakes do not define you. Good people can make bad choices— it doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you human. And sometimes mistakes lead you down a path you were meant to take. My 'mistake', my sweet Isabella Claire, turned out to be everything I never knew I wanted.

And one day, if some rotten boy breaks her heart, I want her to know that not all boys will hurt her. There's one who loves her beyond reason. That someone loved her first, with a fierceness which can not be explained or reasoned.

Isabella turned a boy into a man; a man into a father. Correction, she'd turned a man into a Daddy, and no other title could be more important than that.

This is our story but most importantly, it's the story of love.

A father's love.


	2. Chapter 1

_Much love to my usual suspects._

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My best friend, Tyler Crowley, had a reputation for throwing epic parties whenever his parents went out of town and New Year's Eve, 1992, was no exception. Kids from both Forks High and nearby Quillayute Valley School would no doubt be in attendance. Tyler lived with his parents and sister in a sprawling, six bedroom house situated 15 minutes outside of town. That was key to a great party - no neighbors to call in noise complaints.

When I arrived, the driveway was already littered with cars so I double parked my beat up Volvo wagon at the end of the drive, boxing in another car. I stuffed my hands deep into my jacket pockets and trudged up to the house, head down to ward off the biting cold. The pounding bass greeted me before any of my friends did, and I knew the party was already in full swing. There wasn't any point in knocking so I walked right in.

Intermixed with some of the kids I recognized from Forks High were a fair number of strange faces. Most everyone seemed to know me, though, which wasn't usual. I was captain of the football team, and that fact alone made me popular. People clapped me on the back and gave high-fives as I slid between bumping and grinding bodies on the makeshift dance floor in the living room.

I found Tyler in the kitchen, already hammered. He thrust a red Solo cup into my hands, sloshing the amber liquid all over my brand new, bought-for-the-occasion, blue polo shirt.

"Fuck, Ty." I stepped backwards, crushing someone's toes as I did. I didn't bother apologizing.

"Sorry, bud," Tyler yelled above the music. "Drink up, you've got some catching up to do. I'm already drunk."

"Ya think?" I laughed as I took a sip. Just as I thought - cheap beer. He had awesome parties but the beer was always shit. Ty tipped my cup back, forcing me to down the entire thing, much of it dribbling down my chin. In the time it took me to wipe the excess from my face, my cup was refilled. Within minutes I'd thrown back two cups of beer and two shots of something called a kamikazi. I wasn't much of a drinker, for the simple fact that Coach would hand me my ass if I ever showed up to practice with a hangover or did anything to jeopardize playing ball in general. But hell, it was winter break and I deserved to cut loose every once in a while.

I was a pretty straight-laced, goal-orientated student. I held a perfect GPA for five years straight. When I wasn't playing football, I volunteered at the hospital where my dad was chief surgeon, and once a month wrote for the school newspaper. All of my hard work wasn't for naught - I had dreams of escaping soggy dead-end Forks. Plans to trade the dismal grey skies of Washington for southern California, where sunshine drenched the earth instead of rain. My guidance counselor assured me if I kept my GPA up, a full scholarship to USC was mine. There was no way I was going to screw that up. My future consisted of football, frat parties, beach bonfires, and hot sorority girls. I couldn't wait to graduate high school, leave Forks behind, and live the dream!

The decision I made to go to that party changed everything.

After my second shot, I was feeling pretty good. I made my way to the living room, holding my coveted plastic cup above my head to minimize spillage. The couches and loveseat were already occupied with people 'talking', which was more like yelling above the music, and couples making out. I spied Ben Cheney with his tongue rammed down the throat of my ex-girlfriend, Angela Weber, head cheerleader. Let's just say she was way out of his league. I snorted, thinking about the regrets she'd have in the morning, and kept moving through the party-goers.

The sea of bodies nudged me into the epicenter of a group of hotties - thank you, Universe. Soon, I was sandwiched between two girls I didn't recognize, doing some dirty dancing and singing at the top of my lungs. If I didn't know the words I made them up. No one cared. Somehow my cup was always full, even though there were a few of us drinking from it. The beat of the music coursed through my veins as freely as the alcohol.

At midnight we counted down in unison with Dick Clark, but before I could yell 'Happy New Year!', some girl double fisted my shirt and kissed me full on the lips. Her tongue snaked into my mouth and I did anything but protest. Still holding the red Solo cup, my free hand found a boob. Everyone else faded away. Thanks to the alcohol, I didn't give a shit who was watching. It was just me and her, our tongues sloppy, hands greedy. I'd always been big on kissing but, fuck, kissing a chick with a tongue ring quickly became my newest obsession. It was a long while before we came up for air.

The girl I'd been tongue wrestling with wasn't my usual 'blonde, blue-eyed, with a nice rack' type. The petite brunette had cropped, spiky hair, heavy black eye make-up with matching dark lips, and a nose ring to complement the tongue piercing I was so fond of.

She stole the beer from me, chugged what was left, and set the cup down on a nearby table. Coal-colored eyes locked on mine as she tucked her hand into the waistband of my jeans and tugged me forward. We were back to making out before we we made it to a bedroom down the hall. She kicked the door shut with one high-heel clad foot and then we were in immediate competition to see who could remove their clothes the fastest. I think we both won.

I fumbled for my wallet, searching for a condom. Goth girl assured me she was on the pill. Foolishly, I didn't pursue it further.

We tumbled onto the bed where she sucked my dick, I sucked her tits, and then we fucked, on top of a bunch of jackets. It was fast and frantic, leaving us both sweaty and panting. It wasn't my first time having sex, but it was the first time I fucked a girl whose name I didn't even know.

Still on top of her, I grinned as I introduced myself. "I'm Edward, by the way."

"Ally. Can you get off me?" She didn't smile.

"Right, sorry." I rolled off her. She mumbled her thanks and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Casually she stretched her arms above her head and I could see the bump of each vertebrae down her back to her bare ass. She turned her head and looked at me.

"Can you pass my shirt?"

"Oh, sure." Stunned by her nonchalant attitude, I located her shirt and mine and we both got dressed. The only sound was the repeating bass softly reverberating against the bedroom walls. It was weird - us not talking. As I shrugged into my shirt I was trying to figure out what to say when she spoke first.

"Okay, see ya." Ally gave a small wave and left the room as I was pulling my pants on.

"Uh, bye?" My words were met with a closed door. I sat down on the bed and scratched my head. It was bizarre to have a chick just up and leave right after doing the deed but maybe that was normal protocol after a quickie with a stranger?

I left the bedroom, apologizing to the coats we'd defiled. Briefly, I looked around for Ally but couldn't spot her in the mass of partyers. Tyler found me, though, and I was roped into a drinking game called 'Quarters', which I apparently sucked at. That's pretty much all I remember besides the fact I nursed a wicked hangover the following morning.

Back at school the following week I asked Tyler if he knew much about Ally. We were jogging around the gym as part of our PE warm-up.

"Who?"

"You know, the goth chick with the nose ring at your New Years party?"

He shook his head. "I dunno. Don't remember much from that night. Maybe it was one of my sister's friends from Quillayute? Why? You got the hots for her?

I snorted. "Nah, she was a great fuck, is all."

Ty quirked his eyebrow. "No shit."

Seth caught up to us, falling into step. "Who's a great fuck?"

"Some girl from Quillayute." Tyler answered for me and I rolled my eyes. Seth always had his nose into everyone else's business. Biggest gossip in the school. The last thing I wanted was for him to know anything.

"My cousin goes there, do you want me to ask around for ya?"

"Nah, it's fine. I was just curious."

Coach called us over to start some drills, so Ally was forgotten once again.

About eight weeks later, rumors started flying around our school. It began like the hushed buzzing of power lines overhead and grew increasingly louder the more I listened to what was being said. 'Someone' at Quillayute was pregnant - big news for our small town. I started freaking out because, you know, the no condom thing. What if the rumor wasn't a rumor? What if Ally was the pregnant kid from Quillayute everyone had been gossiping about? Fuck! If anyone knew anything it was Seth. I had to talk to him.

"Hey, Seth." I caught up to him at lunch one day. I glanced around at his friends. "Can I talk to you privately for a sec?"

Despite the rain he followed me outside, both of us pulling our hoodies over our heads to stay dry.

"What's up?"

I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "That rumor that's going around, about the girl at Quillayute - you know anything about that?"

Seth shrugged. "I don't know the girls name but my cousin heard it from her best friend who heard it firsthand from a sister of the cousin to the girl involved."

I shook my head, not quite following.

"Why you asking?" He asked with a smirk. "You know something about this?"

I rolled my eyes. "Nah, just curious."

"Right."

We parted ways but by the end of the day my name was linked with the illicit baby. Seth - that fucker! Within a few days, there was better gossip going around about a possible affair between two teachers. Cost me fifty bucks to have Seth start that one. The rumor was far fetched but at least it stopped people from talking about me.

I thought the whole stupid thing was behind me. I was wrong.

On a dreary day in early March I pulled into the parking lot at school. As soon as I got out of my car I could feel all eyes on me. Groups of people whispering behind their hands, some stealing furtive glances, most outright staring. I wanted to cower away, ditch school for the day but instead I hitched my backpack over one shoulder and walked toward the entrance, head high acting as though I couldn't hear the whispers as I passed. I'd have to talk to Seth, he wasn't upholding up his end of our bargain of keeping my name out of the mud.

And then I saw her- _Ally_.

"We need to talk." She turned and I followed, past the gawking, gossiping people I called friends.

At the far edge of the parking lot where the woods bordered the school she stopped and faced me.

"I'm late."

"Well, yeah, I'm probably going to be late for class now, too," I said as the bell rang.

Ally punched my arm. "No, dumb ass, my period is late." Her eyes, narrowed slits, glared at me.

I glanced around to make sure we were alone and lowered my voice to a growl. "What are you saying? You're not pregnant, are you?"

What a joke. I mean we had sex once. _One time_. Was that even possible?

"Maybe. Probably. But, yeah, I'm pretty sure I am."

"I thought you were on the pill?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I missed one or two."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Have you taken a test?"

She shook her head.

"Why the hell not?"

"Sure, Edward, I'll just walk into the pharmacy on Main Street and buy a pregnancy test. No one would ever find out." She rolled her eyes at me and I understood. Forks was small and like I said, folks liked to gossip. It wasn't like there was shit else to do. Just one more reason I couldn't wait to get out of here and actually experience more life than what this backwoods town had to offer.

I grabbed her arm and escorted her to my car. Her legs couldn't keep up with my long stride so she jogged along beside me.

"Get in. We're going on a field trip."

I drove to Port Angeles, an hour away, to find a place to buy a pregnancy test. We sat in silence during the drive, which seemed to last forever. Ally stared out the window while I kept my eyes on the road and tried to swallow the bile that was creeping its way up my throat. The only sound was the wipers- swish, swish, swishing the rain away.

I pulled into the first gas station I saw and handed Ally twenty bucks - the least I could do was pay for the thing. A few minutes later she came out of the store, bathroom key in hand. I sat in the car drumming my fingers on the steering wheel while I waited. And waited. She took fucking forever. How long did it take to piss on a little stick, anyway?

I'd always been good at reading people but Ally was completely stone faced when she got back into the car. She buckled up, and still refused to look at me. I wanted to yell at her to just tell me already even though intuitively I already knew the result. When I thought I couldn't stand it another minute, she finally spoke.

"It's positive," she said in a monotone voice. I don't know why but I asked for proof- an asshole move. With a look of disgust she reached into her backpack and handed me the white stick with the blue cap. The plus sign was like a slap in the face.

The ride back home was a blur. Obscured evergreens rushed past the side windows, rain pelted the windshield. I cut corners on the winding highway going as fast as my beat up car could go. Ally gripped the sides of her seat and asked me to slow down. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that boxed me in, before easing up on the gas as we approached Forks.

I drove 15 miles to La Push beach parking lot where I knew the wet weather would keep everyone away so Ally and I could be alone. I cut the engine.

"Now what? What are we supposed to do?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't think I could have an abortion - it scares me."

"And having a kid doesn't?" I snorted.

Ally shrugged. "Plus they're like $500."

"Don't worry about the money. I'd find a way to pay for it. I can bullshit my parents about needing the money for something or other."

"And they'd just give it to you?" Ally sounded unconvinced.

"Probably. What about adoption?"

She wrinkled her nose. "What if it went to asshole parents?"

What if we were the asshole parents, I wondered.

"Well then what?" I asked.

"What if we keep it?"

We. What if _we_ keep it. Those two little letters - w and e - jabbed into my gut. I'd fucked up just as much as she had. I dragged my hands through my hair.

"Well?" She looked at me.

"I'd guess we'll figure this shit out."

Silence stretched between us. An uncertain pause, much like our future.

"So what do we do now?"

I looked at her blankly. "I have no fucking idea." I rolled my window down. It felt like I was suffocating, panic pulling me under. A baby? Fuck. I didn't even _know_ the girl next to me, and we were going to have a kid together?

"Ally?"

"Huh?"

"What's your last name?"

"Brandon. Why?"

"Just 'cause. Do you have a middle name?"

She turned to me, one eyebrow raised and a confused look on her face. "What?"

"Do you have a middle name?" I repeated.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really, but if we're going to have a kid together I should probably know _something_ about you - besides the fact you have a tongue ring."

"My full name is Mary Alice Brandon. I prefer Ally."

I stuck my hand out to her. "Edward Anthony Cullen."

"AKA Baby Daddy."

I groaned, my hands scrubbed my face. "Fuck. This is nuts. We're nuts."

"My dad's going to kill you."

"Not unless mine murders me first." _That_ I was certain of.

Two days later, I was standing in the kitchen at Ally's house. Mr. Brandon sat at the head of the table, dressed in a dark suit, eyebrows furrowed. With his back straight and shoulders squared, I lost the confidence I'd had walking into the discussion.

On the wall directly behind him was a huge crucifix. Great, her parents were the ultra religious type - I was a dead man. Mrs. Brandon sat meekly beside him, eyes downcast, hands placed in her lap. She had dark circles under her eyes and a pale, drawn complexion. Her hair was pulled back into a tight knot, and she wore a long-sleeved black dress, with a silver cross dangling on a chain around her neck. Her meekness was such a stark contrast from Ally-with her spiked jet black hair, ripped tights under a denim jean skirt and a ratty concert tee shirt.

Ally remained standing, directly opposite her father. She was so short that, in her position, she was eye to eye with him even though he was sitting down. I stood behind her, waiting for her to introduce me. She didn't, opting to dive right into the matter at hand. I was shocked at her bluntness.

"I'm pregnant."

I watched as rage quickly crept up Mr. Brandon's body, stiffening his back further as though a steel rod had replaced his spine. His hands clenched until his knuckles were white with tension. The fury reddened his neck, jaw, and cheeks. There was a vein throbbing on his left temple that I couldn't take my eyes off of. I wouldn't have been surprised if he suffered a brain aneurism right then.

Mrs. Brandon pulled a rosary from her pocket and with eyes squeezed shut she fingered the amber beads. Mutterings of 'hail Mary, full of grace' were quickly being prayed.

"Mary Alice! What have you done?" Mr. Brandon demanded of his daughter. She didn't flinched.

"It's Ally, Dad, remember? Ally."

He shook his head. "Child, you were named after the Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus Christ, our Lord." His hand drew a cross over his chest.

"Well, let me assure you this was no immaculate conception; I ain't no virgin and he certainly isn't God." Ally retorted with a snort and a smug look of defiance on her face. There were more prayers offered up by Mrs. Brandon.

"Let me explain—" I was immediately cut off by Mr. Brandon with a finger pointed sternly in my direction.

"You will not speak until spoken to."

"I just want to explain—"

"Explain what? That you took advantage of my daughter and impregnated her with your demon spawn?"

"Whoa! Hang on a sec—" Before I could continue, Ally took a step forward to confront her father further, hands planted on her hips.

"Perhaps he didn't take advantage of me. Maybe _I_ took advantage of _him_."

In hindsight, that was the moment I should have realized that everything- the whole one night stand, "I'm on the pill", and subsequently the baby, were a ploy for Ally to hurt her parents, a carefully orchestrated ploy. I was merely a casualty of their war and now, so was the baby. Looking back, I wouldn't put it past her.

"Avé María, grátia pléna, Dóminus técum. Benedícta tu in muliéribus, et benedíctus frúctus véntris túi, Iésus." Mrs. Brandon muttered louder.

Ally ignored her mother and continued. "And maybe I liked it - a lot. Maybe I wanted him to fuck me harder—"

"Get. Out. Of. My. House!" Mr. Brandon's fist slammed onto the tabletop with such force the tea cup clanked against its saucer, spilling liquid over the white lace table cloth.

"Fine by me!" Ally yelled back. "I hate you!"

Mrs. Brandon said nothing as father and daughter screamed at each other. Ally stormed out of the kitchen and I followed. There was no way I wanted to be left alone with her livid father.

Down the hall from the kitchen was Ally's bedroom. She tossed a duffel bag at me and barked for me to throw everything I could from her dresser drawers into it.

"I'm sure he's just mad. Once he calms down—"

Ally snorted. "You don't know my dad. He wanted to send me away to reform school when I was 14 because I refused to repent for my sins. Know what my sin was? Reading Cosmo magazine, which he deemed pornographic. He's wanted me gone for a long time. Whatever. It'll be fine."

"Where are you going to go? It's not just you now, Ally. You have the baby to consider."

Ally brushed my comment off and stomped to the front door, leaving me no choice but to follow. She threw her bags, three of them which held all her worldly possessions, into the back of my car and we drove to my house in silence. I had no idea how I was going to tell my parents about the pregnancy but I doubted it could go worse than that.


	3. Chapter 2

I drove as slowly as I could from Ally's house to mine. Even though I'd had a lot of time to think about things over the past couple of days, I still hadn't come up with how best to tell my parents the news. I came to the conclusion there was no easy way to break it to them- any way would come as a total shock. I pulled into the driveway, turned off the ignition, and then Ally and I sat there for ten minutes in silence. I guess I was hoping for divine intervention or something. It didn't come.

"Fuck. Let's get this over with." I mumbled as I got out of the car.

My parents were in the living room when we came in. They were cuddled up together on the loveseat; Mom's back resting against Dad's chest, his arm draped around her shoulder. He was watching TV and she was reading a book. After two decades of marriage they were still so in love with each other. I wondered if Ally and I would ever be like them. Would a baby bring us together or tear us apart?

Dad raised his eyebrows when he saw me standing in the foyer, a strange girl at my side.

"Edward?" Mom nervously glanced at my father and then me. I took a big breath.

"Dad, Mom. This is Ally." I paused, scrubbing my hand over my face as they awkwardly exchanged hellos. "Ally is...um….shit. There's no easy way to say this." I understood Ally's blunt approach with her parents. "She's pregnant….it's mine." I couldn't look at them because I knew, I _knew_ , I'd completely blindsided them.

As the words fell out of my mouth I waited for their reaction. At first there was nothing from either one. Their faces were blank canvases, but as my words sunk in they painted a bleak picture.

Then the tears welled in my mother's eyes. Her head dropped down, shoulders slumped forward as she began to cry. Knowing I was the reason behind those tears? Fuck. It sucked. Mom could barely look at me and when she finally did it was worse than I imagined. With a hand partially covering her mouth, all she managed to whisper was "Oh, Edward" before the sobs continued.

My father put his arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. Far worse than the tears that left black streaks down my mom's cheeks was the look of sheer disappointment on my dad's face. It just...gutted me. I knew what he expected of me; hell- _I_ expected it of myself: get good grades, go to college, make my parents proud, do something positive with my life. Instead, I'd knocked up some random girl...at the very least I'd have to scratch 'make my parents proud' off that list.

For a long while the only sound in the room was Mom sobbing. I wanted her to stop. For her- for both of them -to know I was going to make things right. I reached for Ally's hand, threading my fingers with hers to show my parents we were a united front. It didn't feel natural but I was trying my best.

"Look, I know we screwed up. But Ally and I want to keep this baby. We're going to raise it - together."

"Where will you live?" Dad asked. Though his voice was calm, his furrowed brow and clenched jaw told a different story.

"Well, Ally's parents kicked her out. I was thinking we could clean up the basement and she, well we, I guess, could stay there." Used mostly for storage, it did have its own entrance, a small bathroom, sitting room, and a bedroom. "It'd be cramped but when I go to school it'll be more than enough for Ally and the baby."

"Babies are expensive. How will you provide for it?"

"I'll get a part time job and I figured you guys would help us out." My father was a surgeon, we had lots of money. "And Mom can babysit when I'm away at school." Again, I didn't see it being an issue because other than her charity and volunteer stuff, Mom didn't work. She could easily look after the kid.

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this."

"Thank you, I have." I leaned back, grinning to myself. See, this wasn't so bad. My parents were totally cool—

"Except that's not how things are going to happen."

"Huh?"

"I take it you didn't use protection?" Dad narrowed his eyes.

"We, uh…." Dad's arms folded across his chest, daring me to lie to him but I knew better. I shook my head.

"An adult action, like having unprotected sex, requires an equally adult reaction to the consequences, such as pregnancy."

I scratched my head. Didn't he hear my solutions to such a consequence? I was annoyed he didn't recognize that.

"I think I've reacted very much like an adult. I'm making sure this kid's provided for while I'm away at school." One of Dad's eyebrows raised.

"Wait a second..." I paused and gaped at him. "You're not saying I can't go away to school, are you? You think I'm going to put my dream of college, of playing football, on hold... to be a dad? No way!" I stood up, stomping to the other side of the room. I turned to challenge my father. "One stupid, drunken mistake isn't going to change the course of _my_ life. I have plans for my future." I poked my thumb into my chest.

Though my mother remained quiet, Dad shrugged his shoulders as though he didn't care. He leaned back against the couch, one leg crossed over the other.

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray."

Ally and I looked at each other blankly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Edward, I respect that you've made goals for yourself. I applaud that. Unfortunately, you can't always plan life because no matter how perfect your plan is, life has a way of surprising you, especially when you least expect it. Now, sit down."

I wanted to argue with him but I knew the look on his face. I sunk back onto the couch, knowing I was defeated.

"No offense, but you were stupid." Looking at Ally, he added, "You were, too, young lady. It takes two to tango." Gone was the defiance she'd showed her parents as she nodded then bowed her head respectfully.

And then my father told us what we were actually going to do. He seemed to lecture me more than Ally, who faded away quietly and let me take the fall.

Yes, mistakes happen, but we had to fully own up to them. And that meant facing the reality that I was going to be a dad; Ally, a mom. Hands-on and 100% responsible. My parents were willing to help out, but they were _not_ going to be the primary caregivers. He informed me I could still attend college, though it would be local - a subject we shared a difference of opinion on.

My parents were willing to help cover _some_ of the costs. However, Ally and I would both have to get part-time jobs, as well. His definition of part-time and mine varied greatly. I was thinking maybe one night a week but, as Dad pointed out, at minimum wage there was no way I could support my new found family.

The only gig I could find in our small town was as a dishwasher at the local diner. It sucked and I hated every minute of it, but there was no other option. I worked the evening shift Wednesday to Sunday. So much for after school socializing with my buddies. Bye bye football. Ally's job was at the barber shop, sweeping up and stuff. She hated her work as much as I detested mine .

In April Ally had an ultrasound and we found out we were having a girl. I tried not to show my disappointment. Not to sound like an asshole but I really wanted a boy. Someone I could toss a football around with, play rough with, you know?

I was still bemoaning a baby of the female variety when we got home from the doctor. Adding insult to injury, waiting for me in the mailbox was a large manila envelope with the University of Southern California crest proudly displayed on the top left corner. I'd been accepted, a full scholarship as expected. But I knew I'd have to turn it down. I couldn't be a 'hands on' dad from a thousand miles, and a 16-hour car ride, away.

That night, for the first time since finding out Ally was pregnant, I completely lost it. The culmination of everything - giving up the scholarship, quitting football, having a kid, and a girl at that - was all too much. Like a big fucking baby I bawled my eyes out in the shower. My fists punched the tiled wall until my knuckles were split and bleeding. I slid down the wall, and wrapped my arms around my knees. I was giving up so much for this baby, this thing I'd never even met. She'd better be fucking worth it.

The week after turning down USC, I signed up for fall classes at Peninsula College in Port Angeles. I'm not sure which was worse- going to a sub-par college in an equally shit-hole town just an hour from home, or the fact that said college's only sporting teams were basketball and soccer, both of which meant nothing to me.

In June I graduated at the top of my class, and as I walked across the stage to receive my diploma it all felt so anticlimactic. Years of busting my ass for a perfect GPA, which wasn't even needed for entrance to Peninsula College. It fucking sucked.

While all my friends were enjoying summer vacation before they left for school, staying out late, binge drinking, and partying, I worked six and seven days a week, sometimes pulling doubles. I was 'promoted'- big fucking whoop- to line cook which paid more but was a way harder job than dishwasher.

After graduation, I officially moved into the basement with Ally. A part of me did it to spite my dad. To show him I could do it: work, go to school, be in a relationship, and raise a kid together with Ally. I needed to prove to my parents I wasn't a total fuck up. Ally and I slept in the same bed albeit with a gap between us. We didn't have sex very often (and when we did it was just for a physical release, nothing more) but we were at least trying to forge some type of a relationship. Well, _I_ was anyway.

During all this, Ally worked sporadically. More often than not she went out with her friends during the day, lounging at La Push beach or meeting up for a late afternoon lunch somewhere. Her nights were spent around a bonfire or at the movies. She didn't seem to have a care in the world. I was working 60 and 70 hour work weeks and she was slacking off and having a great time. It just didn't seem fair. That's when my resentment started growing, like mold that creeps up, slowly multiplies, and gets bigger.

Bigger like Ally's stomach. And with her increasing size came more and more complaints. Backaches, leg cramps, swollen feet, and exhaustion. Every day a new fucking symptom. I was exhausted, too, working so much and never having down time. We were both stretched to the breaking point until one night it all came to a head.

I'd just worked 11 hours straight, in a sweltering hot kitchen. All I wanted to do was come home, put my feet up, and watch some TV. She started whining about wanting ice cream or something stupid like that and expected I would run out and get whatever her latest craving was.

"I'm fucking tired, Ally. I just got home and I'm not moving off this couch unless it's to take a piss."

"I'm growing a fucking human here. I think the least you can do is get me an ice cream cone."

We yelled back and forth, calling each other names until finally I stomped upstairs to get away from her.

I flopped down on the sofa in my parent's living room. Dad looked up from his easy chair, asking if everything was okay.

"I don't think I can do this, be in a relationship with someone I barely know." I felt myself breaking and I couldn't deal with that on top of everything else.

"You knew her enough to have sex with her."

I glared at my dad. "Please don't lecture me about that right now, okay? Just don't."

"I'm sorry. The thing is, whether you like it or not, you will always have a relationship with Ally- as a couple or not. This baby has knit you two together forever."

I nodded. "I get that, but it's not just that, Dad. I don't know the first thing about babies, let alone being a father. " The pieces of me were coming undone. Unraveling fast. Too fast.

My father draped his arm across my shoulders. I pushed my palms against my eyes, willing away my stupid tears. They came anyway. Dad waited for me to collect myself.

"Son, I believe everything happens for a reason. God knows His plan for you even if we don't. Have faith. When you were born, Mom and I didn't have a clue what we were doing either, but we figured it out. You will, too. And you know what? The most important thing a baby needs is love." He paused, tapping his fingers against my chest. "I know you have _that_ in your heart."

"A girl, though? I mean, nothing against them in general, but I was sort of hoping for a boy. Football, wrestling, monster trucks." I made a manly grunting sound to prove my point.

"You can still do all that with a little girl. And she's going to look up to you like you're her knight in shining armor. You will be the standard by which she will judge all men. Be that man, Edward."

Those three words - _be that man_ \- were my epiphany, and echoed in my head. I couldn't let my mistake define me. I was going to make my parents proud of me, but more importantly, I wanted the kid to be proud of me too. I needed to set the bar high for any future, ugh, boyfriends.

 _Be that man._

I went back downstairs, and apologized to Ally. I tried harder to put my resentment behind me, and made more of an effort to get to know the girl who was carrying my child. It was hard but I owed it to Ally and the little one to at least try to be a family.

On a warm September day, a week before her actual due date, Ally went into labor. It was awful. I didn't know how to help. If I rubbed her back, she told me I was annoying her. If I put a cold cloth on her head, it was too wet. When I told her to breathe like we'd been shown in that baby class, she told me to fuck off.

At one point when Ally was writhing in pain, I begged for drugs. For her, obviously, though I wouldn't have minded some for myself as well. They gave her an epidural, which eased her pain but stalled her labor. After 24 hours of contractions and 2 solid hours of pushing, we still had no baby.

"I can't do this," Ally cried and I couldn't blame her. I was exhausted and she was the one doing all the work.

Thankfully, the doctor agreed it was too much. The baby was too big to come out the…conventional way, and she was booked for a c-section.

An hour later, under the harsh glare of the operating room lights, our eight pound, twelve ounce baby girl was born. Oh, she was beautiful, my Isabella Claire. I lost my heart to her at once. I was shaking when they handed her to me, wrapped up like a baby burrito, certain I was going to drop her. I held on for dear life. I don't think I've ever completely let go since. With her blonde hair and dainty features I'd never seen anything so tiny, so perfect, before. My parents said she was the spitting image of me when I was born. Any question of paternity was answered.

The new mommy seemed to be as enamored as I was; enthralled with her beauty, Ally's smile rivaled mine.

There's only one photo of Ally, Isabella, and myself and it's from there in the OR, taken by a nurse. It's a brief snapshot of the love that was tangible in the room that day. When I look at it, I remember we were happy once. At least for a brief moment.

We settled into life as a family of three. Ally and I did pretty good...for a while. Isabella brought us together. We'd lay together in our bed, propped up on our elbows and stare down at her between us. Those perfect fingers and toes, long eyelashes, pouty little lips, and adorably tiny ears, not to mention the ridiculously cute outfits. I mean infant Converse? Yes! She was fascinating, and I wished I could sit and watch her all day long. Whether she was awake or asleep I'd gawk at her, hypnotized by her loveliness.

And then reality set in.

Parenting was hard. Really fucking hard. Why doesn't anyone tell you that?

The baby cried. A lot. Isabella was colicky - screaming every night from nine p.m. until three a.m. Six solid hours of inconsolable wailing. I understood why sleep deprivation was considered a form of torture. It left Ally and me frustrated and short with each other.

We fought over stupid things, like whose turn it was to get up with the baby or who paid for the last can of formula. On top of being a zombie dad, I still had classes to attend and work obligations. As hard as it was for me, it was just as difficult for Ally. In hindsight I can appreciate how being home with a needy newborn wasn't as glamorous as I'd envisioned in my mind.

Ally's escape was going out with her friends, getting drunk, and rolling into bed at three in the morning. I'd usually get to bed around the same time because of Isabella's colic or studying for exams.

Our relationship suffered, not that there was much of one to begin with. Resentment festered inside me like a cavity; a dull ache at first, then a constant throbbing annoyance I couldn't escape. Ally and I didn't talk, we fought. About anything and everything.

One of Ally's biggest issues with me stemmed from her jealousy of my relationship with Isabella. I admit, I had an intense attachment to her. Needing to be near her, and missing her like crazy when we were apart. I felt like Isabella was an extension of myself; it was almost surreal how fiercely I loved her. Ally called me out on it a few times, telling me it was unnatural and sort of weird. I couldn't deny that I loved her more than life.

The only common denominator for us was Isabella, but even she wasn't enough to keep our family together. Ally and I were on opposite ends of an elastic band, each pulling what we felt was equal weight.

And then, in early January, when Isabella was only four months old, Ally let go of her end of the band and I was the one who got stung.

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 _I know this story is different from the norm and I'm so appreciative of your kind reviews. Thank you, so very much. xo_


	4. Chapter 3

I probably couldn't tell you what I made for dinner last Tuesday night but I know almost every detail from January 14th, 1993. It was a Thursday. I went to class in the morning, worked an afternoon shift at the diner, and got home around 6pm. I walked in the door and Ally, looking especially frazzled, handed me a wailing, snotty-nosed Isabella. Teething was taking its toll- on all of us.

"Here, take this," she barked. "She's been fed, and I changed her shitty ass not that long ago. I need a break."

I had to raise my voice to be heard above the screeching. "Uh, okay. Are you going to be long? I have a paper due tomorrow. Shhh, Isabella, it's okay, love, shhh." I cradled the baby in the crook of my arm, swaying her back and forth in an attempt to soothe her.

Ally glared at me as she pulled on her winter boots. "I'll be a few hours, yeah."

I frowned. "If you can try not to make it too late—"

Outside, an obnoxious car horn interrupted me.

"Cindy's here. Gotta go."

The door slammed before I could reiterate the importance of the paper I had to finish. I carted Isabella upstairs to ask my parents if they could look after her for a few hours. Unfortunately, they were heading out to a hospital charity event and didn't expect to get home until late. Great.

Isabella was extra cranky and none of my usual tricks worked to soothe her. She hated the bouncy seat, the swing, and the football hold. A bath made her holler even louder. I gave her Tylenol and eventually she passed out in my arms, but as soon as I tried putting her down she woke up screaming.

I tried to write one-handed to no avail. I could barely think above all the noise. I paced the house with her instead, singing a lullaby while I tried to stay calm and not burst into tears myself. Finally, at one am, the baby crashed and I successfully transferred her to the crib. I crept back to the living room, avoiding every creaky floorboard, and prepared myself for an allnighter.

Ally finally sauntered home at two. She swayed on her feet as she sloppily removed her coat and boots. So help me if she woke up the baby!

"Thanks for coming home early so I could my paper done." I tried to contain the malice in my voice and keep it low enough to not wake the baby.

Ally giggled, confirmation she'd been drinking. Again.

"God, Edward, sometimes you act like you're a hundred and seven years old. This _is_ early. The rest of my friends won't be getting home until three, maybe four. FYI: they made fun of me for leaving so early." She slurred her words which only pissed me off more.

"Yeah, well, they don't have a baby to take care of. I barely got any of my essay done. Thanks a lot."

"Relax. Sheesh, you're so worked up."

I pushed my books away. "Of course I am! I have a paper due in six hours which I've barely started because I was pacing the floors with a baby who cried half the night."

Ally rolled her eyes, looking rather disinterested. It annoyed the fuck out of me.

"You should've stuck her in her crib and let her cry. She'd shut up eventually."

"Really? Really!" I stood up and started piling my books up, slamming them together. "Isabella's a baby. She just wanted to be held, you know? Feel like someone cares."

"I guess I don't care that much." Ally shrugged.

My mouth gaped. How could she not care? Isabella was a part of her! I gawked, incredulous at her statement. All I could do was shake my head.

"I can't believe you said that. You just don't get it."

Ally threw her hands up. "You're right! I don't get it! I give up."

I assumed she meant she couldn't continue arguing with me anymore. Fine by me, I was fucking tired of it as well.

"Me, too. I'm going upstairs to finish this paper." Ally sickened me; I couldn't stand to be around her anymore. She stood firmly in my way.

"No, Edward, I can't do _this_ anymore." Her index finger wagged between us.

"Fine. Let's break up. Whatever. You move out or I will. Doesn't matter. We'll work out visitation for Isabella tomorrow. I've got work to do. Excuse me." I tried to move past her but Ally didn't budge.

"You don't get it. I'm waving a white flag here. I surrender; I'm done. I'm leaving."

My jaw clenched as I glared at her.

"If you think you can walk out of here with _my_ daughter you can fucking forget that!" I spat my words into her face. She sure as hell wasn't taking Isabella with her! No fucking way! I'd fight for my baby girl.

Ally shook her head. " _I'm_ leaving. Just me."

It took a minute for her words to sink in. When my brain caught up to what she was saying, my chest physically hurt. She wasn't leaving me ... she was leaving me _and_ Isabella. The realization gutted me. Before my knees buckled I found a chair, gripping the armrests to anchor me - physically and mentally. Her words cut through me, leaving me breathless. I was too stunned to even try and talk her out of it.

Ally bustled around me, tossing items into duffel bags. She'd randomly ask if I wanted to keep this CD or that book. I couldn't answer her because didn't care about such trivial things. How could she give a fuck about any of that shit but not think twice about leaving Isabella?

In half an hour she'd packed up her shit. Her life with our daughter. Thirty. Fucking. Minutes. She repulsed me.

"Well, I guess that's it." She paused in the doorway, bags in hand. "Cindy's coming back to pick me up. I'll wait outside." She was so matter-of-fact, I wanted to smack her. Not to knock sense into her but to see if she was capable of feeling anything.

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye to your daughter?" I asked incredulously. Ally looked at me blankly as though she'd already forgotten who Isabella was.

"Oh, right," she replied with a shake of her head.

She went into the bedroom alone to say her farewell while I hovered outside the door. A part of me wanted Ally to dissolve into tears and apologize for being a shitty mom, so one day I could tell Isabella her mother had regrets about abandoning us. Our family.

That wasn't the case.

"Bye, Iz. Be good."

Not 'I love you.'

Not 'I'm sorry.'

Just 'Bye, Iz. Be good.'

What the fuck? I don't even know if she kissed her goodbye and it doesn't matter. A kiss wasn't a promise of anything.

Ally walked out of the bedroom, bumping right into me. I grabbed her arms, my fingers digging into her flesh hard enough that I knew it would bruise under my touch.

"If you walk out the door, don't ever expect to come back." I growled my warning. Ally shook her arms free of my grasp and brushed past me.

"Goodbye, Edward."

She hitched her bags over her shoulder and calmly walked out the door. Just like that. She walked out of our lives, abandoning me and our little girl.

I hurled my textbooks after her. The first one slammed against the closed door and I was pissed I'd missed her, that fucking bitch. The second and third hit to the left of the door frame, leaving a dent in the wall where the spine of the book smashed into it. My fist went through the plaster next and I felt no pain, only searing hatred. Anger gripped my insides like a vice, squeezing my chest until I had to scream so I could breathe. I was consumed with so much hatred I was delirious with it.

"Fuck you, Ally! Fuck! You!"

I cursed her name until my throat was raw and my lungs burned with the toxins of a hundred cigarettes.

Dad raced down the basement steps, rubbing sleep and confusion from his eyes.

"Edward! What's going on?"

"Ally left! That fucking bitch left." I pointed at the closed door.

Isabella woke up, screaming as loud as I was.

"Fuuuuck!" I ripped at my hair in frustration knowing she needed me but I was so furious I couldn't trust myself to be near her.

"I'll get her. Go outside, calm yourself down." I was torn but Dad reassured me in a quiet voice, his hand on my shoulder. "Just go."

I stomped around the backyard, reeling and cursing in anger. I chucked rocks at the apple tree - the one I used to climb as a kid. I kicked the trunk as hard as I could, and spat on the fucking ground. My chest heaved. My jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other so hard I could feel the pain reverberating in my skull.

God! I hated Ally! Give up on our relationship — fine, there wasn't much of one anyway. But to give up on Isabella? To abandon her child, her own flesh and blood? Un-fucking-forgivable. Self-centered little cunt. She was every bit the fuck-up her parents thought she was.

It took twenty minutes before I could go back inside, where Dad was still trying to calm Isabella. Her face was scarlet, fists clenched into tight balls as she screamed at the top of her lungs. I'd never seen her so pissed off. The very second she caught sight of me, she reached out her pudgy arms, sobbing even harder. I scooped my angel into my arms, holding her against my chest.

"Hush, baby girl. Sssshhhh. Daddy's here. C'mere, sweetheart." Swaying back and forth I continued to murmur in a low, melodic tone. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay." I was a fucking liar. It wasn't ever going to be okay.

"Do you need me to stay?" Dad asked. I shook my head, knowing it was 2:45 in the morning and he was scheduled to work at 7:00. Dad frowned and clasped my shoulder before he left. He probably thought we'd had a spat and that Ally would only be gone for a night or two. But I saw the look on her face- I knew this wasn't a temporary thing. The bitch bailed on us.

Eventually Isabella's wailing was replaced with pathetic hiccups. She tucked her head under my chin, soft tufts of hair tickling my neck. Her breathing slowed and her body melted against mine. I nestled her even closer, if possible, and continued to sway. Isabella popped her thumb into her mouth and faded away to sleep.

I couldn't stand to be alone, so I sank into the recliner with her. I'd bought the ratty old thing for $25.00 at a garage sale. It was an eyesore - ugly brown tweed with wood accents - but there was a certain comfort to it. The cushions were worn but, like an old, faded pair of Levis, it was the perfect fit. As Isabella's thumb was soothing to her, the chair was to me, especially then.

On my chest Isabella sighed contently when I covered her with a fuzzy pink and brown polka dot blanket, snuggling into its warmth. Her body weight felt like the equivalent of the weight of the world crushing my chest. Sleep eluded me, and the anger was replaced with an overall feeling of numbness. The air, heavy and thick, refused to enter my lungs and I was left suffocating. A dad at 18 was one thing, a single dad was another fucking dimension. I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do.

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 _Thank you all for reading. Cappy: you make my words pretty. Thank you._


	5. Chapter 4

_Thank you all for the love you showed for the last chapter. Ally has an army after her! Much love to Cappy for her continued help. I tinker even after she's done her beta thing so I apologize for any mistakes. Much love to the readers and reviewers xo_

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Those first few days and weeks after Ally left passed by in a blur. I didn't eat or sleep and stumbled around in a daze. Anger clawed at my insides, manifested itself as insomnia. The pounds melted away, leaving me pale and gaunt. My father had to verbally remind me to shower or I'd go for days without. I was living a fucking nightmare. I was terrified and overwhelmed. My parents, thank God for them, took care of Isabella and me.

My daughter was clingy right after Ally left which drained me completely. I remember pacing the floors with her, frustration making me bounce perhaps a little too hard, tears streaming down both our cheeks. I'd collapse into bed at night only to toss and turn, worried about our future and what it might hold. Some days, after the baby was in bed, I'd sit in my car, pounding my fists on the steering wheel; screaming in frustration, in anger, out of pure exhaustion.

Imagine walking across the span of the Grand Canyon on a tightrope, while juggling flaming torches at the same time. That's probably the best way for me to describe those first few months as a single parent. I might as well been blindfolded, too. I often had no idea what I was doing or even how I was doing it. Thank God that whenever I stumbled- which was often- my parents were my safety net.

On bad days, when it all became too much, I could feel myself crumbling beneath the pressure. I'd go upstairs and tearfully tell my parents I couldn't do it any more. I'd never abandon Isabella like her coward of a mother had, but I contemplated quitting school so at least _that_ would be off my plate. They'd take Isabella from my arms and insist I take the night off. I'd get in the car and drive for hours. Windows open, music so loud I couldn't hear myself think. Sometimes, I'd stop at La Push and pace the stretch of beach. The wind whipping sand and salt water into my face, into my wounds. It was so cold I felt frozen to my very core; it was nothing compared to the numbness deep inside me. But having that time alone, even for a few hours, was enough to clear my head and relieve some of the heaviness which weighed on me.

Mom always said to me "Edward, the days are long but the years are short." Being in the thick of it, some days felt like they lasted a millennium. Looking back now, seeing how fast Isabella grew up, I wish I could slow time down or at least visit my 18 year old self. I'd reassure myself that everything worked out in the end and Isabella turned out okay- more than okay.

Eventually, I found my way. Because I had to - for Isabella's sake. But the pressure to be everything she needed was palpable. It showed itself in the way of creases on my forehead and bags ringed under my eyes. My first grey hairs grew in that year, right at my temples. I looked years older than I was, and felt it, too.

There weren't enough hours in the day so I was forced to drop one of my classes, take another by correspondence, and rescheduled one for the evening. I was grateful for Mr. Cope, the owner of the diner, who allowed me to pick and choose shifts that were convenient for my crazy schedule. Even working as much as I could, I knew I wasn't making enough money but there was always enough diapers, wipes, formula, etcetera. Like I said, thank God for my parents who helped me so much, on so many levels.

Eventually I settled into a decent routine with Isabella, but my confidence wavered daily like an ocean tide. Life pushed and pulled me in a multitude of directions between work, school, and home; employee, student, and dad. I was mostly lost, always overwhelmed, sometimes hopeful, and often lonely.

Most of my friends had gone away to college. When they came home for spring break, I discovered our lives were worlds apart. I wasn't partying, unless a pity party counts, or hooking up with girls like they were. I was tied to one girl and one girl only- my sweet Isabella. Though my friends and I drifted apart, I never faulted them for it. Our lives were so vastly different and I knew it was as equally hard for me to relate to them as it was for them to relate to me.

Being a single father isolated me; I was lonely. I tried dating, in the limited free time I had, but as soon as I mentioned I had a daughter girls were suddenly disinterested. I get that - a kid's a lot of baggage to take on. If I was a single guy, the last girl I'd hit on would be one with a child.

One day when Isabella and I were at the mall, an older woman commented on how adorable my little sister was. Light bulb moment! The following week when a girl at Starbucks in Port Angeles started swooning over her chubby cheeks and gummy smile, I said Isabella was my little sister. Bam! Instant babe magnet. Trouble was, one of her first words was 'Da Da' and she ratted me out, little stinker. Game over.

Feeling guilty about using Isabella as an unwilling ploy to pick up women, I made it up to her by taking her to bi-weekly story time at the library. It was me and a group of women. I learned a lot about the female sex through my time there - most importantly that women are far more competitive than men. I played championship high school football, and these ladies were way more cutthroat. It was all about whose kid was sleeping through the night first, who had the most teeth, or which child had the biggest vocabulary. When Isabella was the first to walk, at 11 months, I was ridiculously proud. It was then I understood the competitiveness. I loved that _my_ kid was the best. As a bonus, I didn't have to carry her anywhere, she could simply walk beside me.

Have I mentioned I was delusional?

From then on, going for a walk _anywhere_ with her was challenging. Isabella would go where _she_ wanted, completely ignoring me. She refused to hold my hand, would scream if I forced her, and when I picked her up because she'd stopped for the eighth time to admire a squirrel/dandelion/rock/air, she would kick and scream something fierce. And yet, even with her face scrunched up and pissed off she was still freaking adorable, if I may say so myself.

Isabella was my best and, if I'm being honest, only friend. I could talk to her about anything and she'd listen intently, never passing judgment. She also couldn't talk, but whatever. It was nice to have someone to confide in. Sometimes I told her secrets I didn't dare tell anyone else. When I confessed to having a tryst with one of my TAs, Isabella clapped her hands in excitement - definitely not the response I got from my mother when she found out.

Through it all, I fell deeper in love with my daughter every day. The kind of love that makes you crazy with it. Where if you read a newspaper article about a child being harmed, you have no doubt you'd be behind bars for the retaliation measures you'd take if that were your baby who'd been hurt.

But my love for my daughter wasn't enough to suppress my resentment and hatred toward Ally. It always simmered inside me, like lava in the belly of a volcano threatening to erupt. There were times, though, when I all felt toward Isabella's mother was pity. When Isabella's giggles were a melody that filled the room. When her chocolate brown eyes were flecked with such pure delight they sparkled. Or the sight of her bare bottom as she streaked down the hallway to avoid putting her pajamas on. And there was nothing more serene than the feeling of her little body, still warm and damp from her evening bath, settled on my lap as I read 'The Paperbag Princess' for the umpeenth time. Ally missed it all.

Isabella's first birthday was a particularly important milestone for me. I'd kept us both alive and, damn it, we were going to celebrate. I decorated my parents backyard with pink streamers, helium balloons, even arranged for a mini petting zoo with bunny rabbits, a pony, and two baby goats. I invited everyone from story time, 11 friends in total.

And wouldn't you know it, on September 13th it pissed rain. The streamers bled pink raindrops onto the white tablecloths and the wind whipped through the yard, taking the balloons with it.

We moved the party, minus the farm animals, into the main part of the house. Isabella wasn't a fan of the attention bestowed upon her and clung to me like velcro. After the presents were opened (by me) Isabella was more thrilled with the gift bags and tissue paper than anything else. She did, however, thoroughly enjoy the chocolate cake- which she squished between her fingers, then smeared all over her face and pink, poofy, over-priced party dress.

The entire fanfare came and went - all without any acknowledgement from Ally. A part of me hoped she would've figured her shit out by then. That she'd come crawling back, begging for forgiveness and asking to be a part of Isabella's life. I wanted the satisfaction of telling her to go to hell. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Isabella and I carried on alone.

I got tired of always looking over my shoulder, wondering if or when Ally would decide to resurface so I sought sole custody. It took nearly 18 months to track her whereabouts but she signed her parental rights away without any protest. Without even asking to see our daughter.

I assumed that after the whirlwind year of firsts, I'd mastered the parenting gig; paving the way for smooth sailing from there on out. Go ahead and laugh, my parents certainly did. What I discovered instead was when you think you have it all figured out, you don't and you're a fool to ever think you did.


	6. Chapter 5

_Thank you for your kind reviews. Your support of this story means so much to me. Alanna: I love you. xo_

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I learned so much about being a parent over the course of Isabella's first year. The internet in the early 90s wasn't what it is now; I devoured parenting books voraciously, and had long talks with my parents and library group mommy friends. There are some things, though, you discover on your own.

Like the fact that rationalizing with a one year old is futile. You know this but you will try, and try again. And you tell yourself you won't give in to every whining whim but the truth of the matter is you will. One flutter of those eyelashes, one sweet sounding 'pwease, Dada' and you're handing over the moon without a second thought. Cuteness is a powerful, underrated thing.

You will do other things you never thought you'd do- like teach a little girl to pee standing up because the first time you sat her on the toilet she fell in, and since you failed to bite back laughter she refused to sit on the toilet again. And only when your mother catches her unsuccessfully peeing in that manner, urine running down her leg and puddling on the floor, do you admit defeat in the potty training department. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Things that would have grossed you out before don't phase you once you're a parent. I've picked boogers out of Isabella's nose, stuck a thermometer up her butt, and changed a wide variety of colored, textured, rancid smelling diapers, not to mention sifted through said diapers to ensure a swallowed penny made its way back out successfully (it did, in case you were wondering.) When you're a parent these are things you do without much hesitation.

Another given is that your precious child will embarrass you. A lot.

I remember taking three and a half year old Isabella swimming at the Forks Athletic and Aquatic club. Start to finish, it was a horribly embarrassing event. I took her with me into the men's locker room, forgetting guys strut around buck-naked with no qualms whatsoever. I'd always been modest with my daughter because it was weird for me to have her see me undressed. In the locker room I shielded Isabella's eyes and took her into a private changing stall. After I wrangled her into her bathing suit I had to get changed into my swim trunks. I tried to do it quickly but I wasn't quick enough for Isabella, who was right at crotch level.

"Daddy! What's dat?" She actually flicked my penis with her finger. No. Just, no. And of course she wasn't using her inside voice. I quickly shushed her.

"Why are you so hairy down there?"

Someone in the next change room snickered.

"Are you ready to go swimming?" I asked, praying she would shut up already.

"Yay, swimming!" She jumped up and down, huge smile on her face. Thank God for distraction - a parent's favorite trick.

Part way through swimming, I thought I should ask if she needed to use the restroom.

"Sweetie, do you need to go pee-pee?"

She shook her head, her wet ponytail swaying back and forth.

"I already went in the pool."

The family swimming next to us swam in the opposite direction. I tried not to laugh but she looked so proud of herself.

The public pool wasn't the only place Isabella decided to embarrass me. Once when we were shopping in Wal-Mart she spotted a white, frilly wedding-type dress. Isabella begged to try it on so I put it over top of her clothes. The drama began when I explained I wasn't actually going to buy it for her.

Meltdown.

Awesome.

By nothing short of a miracle I managed to get the dress off her. She stomped her feet but I'd won. Ha! Except Isabella decided if I wasn't going to buy the dress for her, well then, she wasn't going to wear anything. _At all_. She bolted away from me, stripping off her clothes as she went. Three year olds are surprisingly fast and agile. When I finally caught up to her she was scarcely short of a full monty. I dragged my half-naked screaming child out of the store while customers rubbernecked, my face red with embarrassment. It was something I learned to get used to.

Like most kids, Isabella had no filter. She constantly said things that left me red-faced and stuttering out an apology to whomever I was with.

Once, when she was four or so, we went grocery shopping. Usually the biggest problem at the grocery store was her wanting me to buy chocolate bars and candy at the front check-out. That unfortunate day, I had another battle – between me and Isabella's mouth.

"Daddy! She's bee-u-tee-ful!" Again, _not_ using her inside voice, and with her finger pointing obnoxiously in the direction of the woman standing behind me in the check-out line. She was right - the redhead was attractive, so I used Isabella as bait.

"Hi, I'm Edward. Apparently my daughter thinks you're pretty."

Smooth, right?

"Nice to meet you, I'm Tori. Cute kid." She gave me a flirty smile that I returned.

"Thank you."

Isabella tugged my sleeve.

"Daddy, are you going to kiss her?" My child had watched far too many movies where kisses were exchanged upon first meeting, and the characters fell hopelessly in love. Tori laughed.

"Sweetie, he needs to ask me out for coffee or something first."

And I was just about to do that when Isabella piped up.

"Do you like swimming?"

Smart thinking, kiddo, get the hot girl into a bikini. That totally worked for me.

"Yes, I do." Her eyes locked on mine in some serious eye fucking. At least what I assumed was considered eye fucking - it'd been awhile since anyone paid much attention to me.

"Daddy, you should take her swimming!"

"Maybe I will. Why don't you give me your number?" I started loading my groceries onto the conveyor.

"Swimming is fun. You can pee in the pool – I do."

"Sweetheart, some things you keep a secret," I laughed. Isabella looked thoughtful. I should've known that wasn't a good thing.

"Is it supposed to be a secret that you're really hairy?" For added effect she pointed at my crotch and whispered, "Down there."

"Heh, heh. Kids." I playfully placed my hand over my daughter's mouth and smiled.

Thankfully, Tori wasn't scared off. I took her out for coffee the following Sunday morning while Isabella was at church with my parents. We hit it off.

This brings me to the next the thing you realize upon becoming a parent: you're mostly celibate, and not by choice.

Tori and I had been seeing each other for about a month. Dating a single dad, who still lives in his parent's basement and shares one tiny bedroom with his daughter, means having your girlfriend come over after your kid's in bed, you never get the luxury of having your date spend the night, and any sexy times are had on the sofa. I wasn't picky; I'd take what I could get.

Thankfully, once asleep, Isabella was down for the count, which was great because I wasn't quite ready to explain the birds and bees or the context of my relationship with Tori to my four year old. Except this one particular night. Of course. Tori and I were horizontal on the couch, getting acquainted, you could say. There I was, dry-humping like mad and sucking on her boob when little Isabella padded in. Those damn footed pajamas gave her the silent stealth of a pint-sized ninja.

"Daddy?"

I popped my mouth off the nipple. Tori screeched, scaring Isabella who started bawling. I didn't know if I should I cover naked boobs or console my daughter. I opted for boobs. Wrong choice. Isabella noticed the tent in my pants and her eyes bugged out.

"Daddy! What's wrong with your penis?"

Oh, shit.

Must distract.

"Why are you out of bed, young lady?" I adjusted myself while scolding. Meanwhile, Tori scrambled into her clothes.

"Why were you kissing her boobies? Does she have an owie?" Those big eyes were wide with concern.

"Yes! Yes! Tori has an owie. On her boobies. I mean, breasts. And that's why I was kissing them. I was making her, I mean, them feel better."

"Maybe she should kiss your penis and make it feel better. I think it might be broken."

I blushed. "Heh heh. Yeah, that would probably make it feel better. Okay, let's get you back to bed, sweetie." I mouthed an apology to Tori as I patted Isabella on the behind, scooting her back to the bedroom.

Eventually, Tori and I parted ways. Going in, we both knew our relationship wasn't going to be anything serious or long-term. First and foremost, I was a dad; anyone else in my life was a secondary character to Isabella. I was upfront from the beginning and Tori was okay with it. When we broke up, it was totally mutual and there were no hard feelings on either side. I have such fond memories of my time with Tori - she made me feel like a normal 21-year old guy...for a while anyway. Leave it to Isabella to remind me I was anything but.

My five-year old daughter was filled with useless information. Except quite often the facts she recited were incorrect. Like when she told her entire preschool class that Daddy ate vagina for dinner, but she didn't like it so she had cereal. She meant lasagna, which I kindly explained to Mrs. Banner when she called me in for a parent-teacher conference the very same day.

The other thing no one tells you about being a parent are the tears - yours. And not from frustration, though there are plenty of those as well. I'm talking about the tears that spring up when you least expect it. Like the first day of kindergarten. Isabella was vibrating with excitement and clutching my hand tightly. I walked her into class and the teacher invited her to join the others already sitting on the carpet. As Isabella's hand slipped from mine I found myself blinking back tears. She had been my sole responsibility for five years and passing the torch on to Ms. Volturi, even for half a day, was harder than I ever expected. I cried more than she did that first month or two.

I'd wait for her after school and watch her search for me in the sea of parents. When she found me, the smile on her face would grow and she'd sprint as fast as she could toward me, pigtails flying, and launch herself into my arms. I loved being her number one guy.

That's just one the many stories of joy being a parent grants you. My favorite times were spent snuggled in the old recliner in our living room. After school, with chocolate milk and cookies close at hand, Isabella would tell me all about her day in a long, convoluted way with busy hands and wide, expressive eyes. On weekends we'd scrunch together in the seat and watch movies, lounging in our jammies all day.

Every night before bed I'd read her a story, and Isabella would pretend to be asleep by the last page so I'd have to carry her to her room. I never minded. She'd wrap her arms around me, nuzzle her nose into my neck and giggle to herself because, once again, I'd apparently fallen for her trick. I'd tuck her covers under her chin and Isabella would magically wake up, rubbing her eyes and ask me how she got to bed. When I told her by fairy wings be she would act surprised. Together we'd say her prayers - thanking God for each other, for Grandma and Grandpa, and for a good night's sleep.

After tucks in, I'd kiss the tip of her nose and turn the night light on. Right before I'd close the door Isabella would murmur a sweet-sounding "I love you, Daddy" and together we'd say "To the moon and back."

Those moments made it all worthwhile. But nothing, _nothing_ topped my college graduation.

After six years of part-time classes, after blood, sweat, and actual tears, I finally earned my business degree. It was Isabella's voice cheering the loudest when I walked across the stage to get my diploma. It's probably the proudest moment of my life.

"That's! My! Daddy!"

You know it, sweetheart.

The image of her standing up on her chair, grinning from ear to ear, frantically waving her arms and cheering for me - ME! - is forever etched in my mind. I hadn't failed her after all. Cue those damn tears again.

Shortly after graduation, I realized it was time for Isabella and me to finally move out of my parent's basement; make it on our own. Though I didn't know exactly what I was going to do, for the first time in a very long time I felt confident in my abilities and was excited to start our new life.

Just not in Forks.

A fresh start meant getting away from the small town I'd grown up in. I wanted what my friends had experienced - the thrill and excitement of moving away from home. My parents supported my decision one hundred percent.

I made a few solo trips south, checking out Seattle and the surrounding areas. I put a deposit and first month's rent on a two bedroom apartment I thought would be perfect for us. The Lord willing, I'd figure out 'what to do with my life' soon.

Two months post grad, just weeks before her sixth birthday, Isabella and I packed up a U-Haul moving truck and relocated to Edmonds, Washington. It was bigger than Forks, but not intimidatingly so. The move brought with it many tears, and more nostalgia than I anticipated, but it's a decision I've never regretted. After all, it's where I would meet two of my best friends, and where Isabella would grow into a young woman.

That's when life got really interesting.


	7. Chapter 6

_Once again, thank you for your kind_ _reviews. I'm so appreciative. Capricorn75 is my wonderful friend who also beta's for me. Love you, Cappy xoxo_

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Leaving Forks was harder than I cared to admit. Self-doubt nagged every chance there was. What if I couldn't make it without being able to fall back on the safety net of my parents? What if I didn't find a job before the money I'd saved (and been given) ran out? What if the whole notion of a new life was impossible to attain? Failing myself was one thing, but failing my daughter was not an option. I would never forgive myself if I let that happen.

It wasn't easy dialing back the negative thoughts, but I knew I had to—especially for Isabella. I shouldered the guilt of taking her away from her school friends, her adored grandparents, and the only home she'd ever known. I owed it to her to be positive. Some days I faked it but my daughter was none the wiser.

I made setting up our new home an adventure and gave Isabella full rein on her room. She chose pink - pink paint, pink comforter, pink rug, and pink curtains. It looked like Pepto Bismol threw up in her room. She was happy, though, and that was all that mattered. Her happiness is all that will _ever_ matter to me.

I painted my room pale grey tinged with blue, and it wasn't until later I realized how similar the color scheme was to the perpetual sky in Forks. My subconscious knew how much I missed home and my choice in paint color was indicative of that. Still, I was determined to make Edmonds home.

Five days of unpacking left me feeling a bit squirrely. After breakfast Isabella and I ventured outside to check out the quaint seaside town we would now call home. In desperate need of caffeine, our first stop was the coffee shop around the corner from our place.

The patio out front of ' _Common Ground_ ' was furnished with wicker chairs and worn wooden tables. Though it was currently empty I could picture friends- young and old -sitting out there, hands wrapped around coffee mugs, trading stories or simply sitting quietly, doing a crossword puzzle.

I ushered Isabella into the cafe ahead of me. The bell above the door gave a muted jiggle, quietly announcing our arrival.

The barista- Tanya according to her nametag- greeted us with a smile. Isabella asked for an apple juice and I ordered a dark roast. As we waited for our drinks, Isabella struck up a conversation with a man who was sitting nearby.

"Hi. I'm Isabella."

The man smiled and extended his hand in greeting; it swallowed my daughter's tiny one.

"Nice to meet you, Isabella. My name's Emmett."

"That's a funny name," she said, her nose wrinkled.

"I'm a funny guy." He gave her an exaggerated wink.

I thanked Tanya for the drinks as I noticed Isabella climbing up on the chair next to her new friend. Poor guy was trying to enjoy a cup of coffee and read the paper, and along comes my kid.

"Isabella, no—"

The man waved me off as he put the newspaper off to the side. "Nah, it's fine. Pull up a chair." With one arm he pushed in Isabella's. "I'm guessing he's your dad, huh?" He asked with a nod of his head in my direction. "Unless you're here by yourself."

Isabella rolled her eyes, a trait she'd recently perfected that, sadly, reminded me of her mother.

Lucky me.

"I'm a little kid. Of course I'm not here alone. Duh."

The man's eyes crinkled at her 'duh'.

"That's my dad. I don't have a mom." Six years in and it still hurt my heart. I frowned as reached for her, my hand brushing her hair out of her eyes. I should have found her a headband before we left the apartment.

"Are you sure you don't mind some company?" I asked.

"Of course not."

I set the coffee and juice down on the table and shook his hand before I sat, introducing myself. I punched the straw out of the packaging and handed it to Isabella.

"Emmett McCarty," he repeated. "Are you here visiting for a few days?"

"Actually, we just moved to town on Monday." I took a sip of the dark brew, burning my tongue in the process.

"I'm almost six. I'm going into first grade."

"Wow. I thought you were at least ten." Emmett winked at her and she beamed.

"Well, I'm as smart as a ten year old."

"You are?" Emmett leaned in close; my daughter was clearly thrilled with the attention of someone other than her father.

"Uh huh. I know that inside my brain is my hippocampus. And I have an anus and a va—"

My index finger pressed against her lips.

"Heh, heh. Isn't it amazing what they teach kids in Kindergarten nowadays." Isabella ignored my interruption and managed to talk around my finger.

"My dad has a small—".

"Isabella!"

No matter what, I did not want her to finish that statement – who knew what would come out of her mouth. Thankfully, the stern tone of my voice shushed her but did little to stop the blush from burning my cheeks.

"Let's not talk Emmett's ear off."

Emmett grinned as he took a sip of his coffee. "Are you kidding? This is the most excitement I've had in months."

Isabella stuck her tongue out at me then started blowing bubbles in her apple juice. I shook my head once and she obeyed before taking a big sip. Emmett gave a little nod to Tanya and she came over to our table asking if Isabella wanted to draw a picture for their bulletin board. She looked to me for permission first then happily skipped off to a low table where there were crayons and paper already set up.

"Cute kid."

I smiled. "Thanks. She's a handful, that's for sure."

"Just wait until there are boys in the picture." Emmett laughed and I groaned.

"Ugh. I don't even want to think about that."

"So, what brings you to town?" He leaned forward, bulky arms resting on the table. He should've been intimidating based on his size alone but he just wasn't.

"Everything and nothing." I toyed with the discarded paper from the straw.

"A fresh start, huh?"

I nodded. "Something like that, yeah."

"You're awfully young for needing a fresh start."

I shrugged. "I grew up in a small town where everyone knew my business. Mostly that I got a girl pregnant when I was in high school. She left us when Isabella was four months old. This is the first time we aren't living in my parent's basement." I paused, embarrassed for blurting out such personal information to a complete stranger. I ran my hands through my hair. "Uh, wow. Sorry, I don't know why I just told you all that."

"Like father like daughter, huh?" Emmett teased.

I laughed. "She comes by it honestly, apparently. Anyway, I'm sorry."

"Eh, don't worry about it. A coffee shop's like a bar. People talk to me like I'm a bartender instead of a barista all the time."

"You work here? Sorry, I just assumed you were a customer."

There was that huge grin again. "I own the joint, actually. "

"Cool."

Emmett shrugged like it was no big deal. "It was my dad's business. He passed away last year."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks." He paused for a moment, frown on his face. "Anyway, I've been muddling my way through ever since. Thank God for Tanya, she's my savior. Unfortunately, this is her last day. She's leaving me for college out of state. Not sure what I'll do without her. I had a guy lined up but he bailed on me last minute."

"I could help you out." The words left my mouth before I even knew what I was saying.

"Really?" Emmett looked hopeful.

"Yeah. I moved to town on a whim and I sort of need a job."

"Shit, man. That'd be awesome. When can you start?"

"Uh…" I hadn't expected him to take me seriously. "My parents are coming to town this weekend. I could have them look after Isabella and come in on Sunday or Monday?" I'd figure out babysitting after that.

Emmett twisted his lips in thought. "How about you come in Sunday and I'll show you the ropes."

"That sounds great. Thank you so much!"

Before I could confess my lack of experience to Emmett, Isabella came back to the table.

"Daddy! Look at this." She climbed up onto my lap, shoving the paper right in my face.

Emmett grinned as I moved it away to admire it.

"Wow, sweetie. Nice."

"Guess what it is."

"It's a…." I was stumped. I turned my head sideways and narrowed my eyes hoping for divine intervention.

"Is it your dad and me sitting here having coffee?" Emmett ventured a guess.

"Yes! You're right. Daddy, you were holding it upside down."

"Silly me." I planted a kiss on her cheek. She immediately wiped it off and looked at our new friend with a flushed face.

"Dad!"

Emmett quickly looked away. "I didn't see a thing. Did you want to keep the picture or can I hang it up on the bulletin board?"

"You can keep it, since _you_ knew what it was before Daddy." She passed him the picture and he stood up to post it on the board.

"Whoa! You're like a freaky tall giant!"

"Isabella!" I scolded her for being rude but I couldn't disagree – he had a good three inches on me and I was six foot two.

"I'm not a giant. I'm an ogre. Grrrrrrr!" With arms outstretched he went to grab a then screeching Isabella. She hopped off my lap and ran away. Emmett stopped chasing her and let out a belly laugh.

"You run fast … for a girl." I knew he was kidding by the smirk on his face but my daughter was not impressed.

Isabella stomped over to him, hands on her hips.

"For a girl? Hmmmph! I was the bestest runner in my Kindergarten class. I could out-run you any day."

"Good practice to outrun all those boys who will be chasing after you in school," Emmett said.

"Eewww! I don't like boys. Gross! Well, I like my dad and my grandpa, but that's about it."

Emmett grinned. "I'm sure your dad would be more than okay with that but I have a feeling you'll be changing your mind one day."

Sadly, he was right.

"Should we get going, Princess? Check out the rest of the town?"

Isabella nodded and turned her attention to Emmett. "Thank you for the apple juice."

I was proud of her for remembering her manners.

"You're very welcome. You make sure your daddy takes you to Kinder Britches for a new outfit for school, okay? And go to Giardi's on 5th and Walnut for lunch. Tell them Emmett sent you for one of their famous Shirley Temples."

How he knew that was her favorite drink, I don't know but Isabella's face lit up, and her ponytail bounced as she nodded her head.

"Thank you, Emmett," I said as I extended my hand to him. "For everything."

"No problem. I'll see you Sunday? Nine okay? Wouldn't want to start you too early on your first day."

"That'll be fine. There's, uh, just one problem."

"What's that?"

I blushed knowing I had to admit the truth. "I, uh…. I don't exactly know the first thing about making specialty coffees."

Emmett waved it off.

"You didn't know the first thing about raising a little girl and I'd say you've done a fine job with her."

With that he turned his attention to my daughter, squatting down to her level and extended his hand.

"Miss Isabella, it was my pleasure to meet you. Try to keep your dad out of trouble, okay?"

"Don't worry, I will."

That's pretty much the short version on how I came to work for Emmett McCarty. Eventually, we would become 50/50 partners and, despite our nine-year age difference, best friends. Isabella still refers to him as a freaky giant but more affectionately calls him 'Uncle Emmett'.

And that picture she drew of Emmett and me sitting by the window having coffee the day we met? It's framed and sits on the front counter of our business.


	8. Chapter 7

_Thank you for all your reviews! You make me smile. Cappie: Thank you so much xo_

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A week after moving to Edmonds I became friends with my next-door neighbor, Rosalie Hale. As with Emmett, my friendship with Rosalie was easy going right from the start. Being that Rose worked from home, she offered to babysit Isabella - take her to and from school and keep her entertained until I got home. I was hesitant at first but I really needed someone to watch her so I could work. Besides, she didn't look like a crazy stalker…..To return the favor I'd make dinner for the three of us and we'd eat as a pseudo family. Quite often, long after Isabella had gone to bed, Rosalie and I would hang out. We'd watch tv, play cards, or simply talk. It was nice to have someone else in town I could call a friend.

When Royce, her (asshole) boyfriend of two years, broke her heart, it was my door Rose knocked on at one a.m. Her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks told me all I needed to know. I frowned as I pulled her into a tight hug right there in the doorway. Not wanting her to go back to her empty apartment, I didn't hesitate to bring her to my bed. There she cried herself to sleep, her head on my chest, while I quietly shushed her, running my fingers through her hair. There was nothing weird about waking up next to her the morning after, and no awkward walk of shame home because we hadn't done anything except sleep. Without sex, things with us were blissfully uncomplicated.

I was the one who stopped Rosalie, on more than one occasion, from drunk dialing Royce for a late night booty call. It wasn't for my benefit, either - I just couldn't stand to see her pining after someone who treated her like shit.

If I ever wanted company for dinner or a movie, Rosalie was my girl. If we went out and some guy was obnoxiously hitting on her, I threw daggers his way. She was my wingman and I was hers. Simply put, we were good friends. There weren't any romantic feelings between us whatsoever.

Until my darling daughter planted the seed.

It was a Thursday night, a year after our move to Edmonds. Seven year old Isabella and I were eating supper when her question came out of left field.

"Daddy, can Rosalie be my mom one day?"

I choked on my salad. "No, peanut, I'm sorry."

"Why not? She's pretty."

"Yes, she is. It takes more than being pretty for someone to become your mom, though."

"Like what?" Her words were garbled as she slurped up a long spaghetti noodle, flipping sauce onto her nose.

"Well, for starters, you have to be madly in love with that special someone. You have to want to hug and kiss them all the time, and be sad when you're apart because you miss them so much."

"Kind of like how I love you and you love me."

"Exactly like that." I smiled and kissed the top of her head as I started clearing away the dinner dishes.

"One day can I have a mom?" Isabella sighed after she asked, her lips in a pouty frown.

There was such a longing her in voice. It was then I understood how deeply Ally's absence affected my daughter; a realization that pained me. Even though I'd given Isabella so much – a stable home, unconditional love, material things, and all of my heart – I'd failed to give her the one thing she seemed to wish most for - a mom.

While in bed that night I mentally did a critical assessment of Rosalie. She was a shining example of what I hoped Isabella would become one day - successful, smart, and beautiful. In fact, with her big blue eyes, gorgeous blonde hair, long legs, and curves in all the right places she was practically everything I looked for in a mate as well. If I had time to date, that is.

The next thing I knew, it was her body I was picturing as my hand wrapped around my … yeah so, uh… Rosalie was hot. Who knew?

At work the next day I couldn't get Rosalie and those damn curves off my mind. I started a pot of coffee without placing the carafe under the drip first. Made a soy latte with whole milk, and twice closed the register without giving change back first.

That night Isabella had a sleep-over with her best friend so when Rosalie sent me a text asking 'Dinner?' I sent a message back that said 'You've got yourself a hot date. My place. 7:00' I don't even know where the words 'hot date' came from.

Instead of throwing on jeans and a tee shirt after my shower, I dressed in khaki pants and a button down shirt. I told myself it was only dinner with a friend but I still put on cologne and spent 20 futile minutes on my hair.

Even though Rosalie would've been fine with chicken and dumplings, I made scallops, risotto, Caesar salad, and dessert. I was a competent cook yet still found myself on the phone with my mom four times asking for advice. She quickly deduced that I was cooking for a girl, but I didn't reveal that it was Rosalie. Trust me, my parents would have been more than thrilled if we were an item.

A few minutes before 7:00 I turned down the lights, lit a few candles around the apartment, and uncorked the wine.

Rosalie knocked on the door and let herself in. I wiped my sweaty palms on my slacks.

"Hey." I managed to croak out.

"Hey." Rosalie looked around with one eyebrow raised. "Did you forget to pay your electric bill?"

"No, no. I just, uh, thought, uh, that... I figured it'd, uh, be a nice change is all."

Rosalie shrugged then sniffed the air as she walked into the kitchen. "Smells amazing. You cooked?"

"Yeah, I didn't feel like take-out. I hope that's okay?"

"It's more than okay. I figured we'd order a pizza but, damn, this looks so much better. Where's Isabella tonight?"

"At a sleepover. Have a seat, I'll fix you a plate." I pulled out Rosalie's chair, ignoring the funny look she gave me.

"Wow, thank you, Edward."

When we sat down, the conversation flowed easily – as did the wine. Typical of our conversations, we went from discussing the latest TV shows to politics to the trouble in the world without any awkward lulls. It was the least stressful first date I'd ever been on – though I'm not sure if it could be considered a date given the fact that Rosalie didn't even know it was one. Minor details.

After dinner, we moved from the kitchen to the living room with our wine. Rosalie chose a movie for us to watch and we got comfortable. I propped my feet up on the coffee table; Rose kicked off her heels and tucked her legs underneath her.

At some point I got up for a second bottle of wine. When I offered to refill Rosalie's glass she shook her head, covering the mouth of the goblet with her hand.

"I think I've had enough."

I shrugged before filling my glass and taking a sip.

"You sure?" I asked. "This one's from Argentina and it's pretty good."

"Maybe I'll just have a sip of yours."

I passed her my glass and watched as she brought it to her lips and took a small sip.

"That's pretty good," she admitted, sweeping her tongue across her upper then lower lip slowly. I doubt it was meant to be flirtatious in any way but it was about the sexiest thing I'd seen in a long time. I looked away.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Oh right, the damn Argentinian wine.

Yet I continued to drink it. And even though Rosalie had waved off my offer to refill her glass, she continued to steal sips from mine.

With my mind clouded I found myself thinking about making a move of some kind. I casually snuck my arm around Rose. Well, more along the back of the couch rather than around her, because I was trying my best to be subtle. Rosalie didn't seem to mind, or care for that matter, and I even thought I saw her lips curl into a smile. Perhaps it was the effect of the wine but there was a chance it was because she'd been waiting a year for me to make my move.

So, I went for it. I kissed her. I did one of those grazing kisses where my nose trailed along her jaw line before I left my mark against the left side of her cheek, close to her ear. Rosalie froze, then ever so slowly turned her head to stare at me with wide eyes.

"Um, what was that?"

 _Fuck me._

Why hadn't I left well enough alone? And why had I started in on that second bottle of vino? I rubbed my hands over my face, wanting to hide myself behind them.

"Edward?" Rosalie asked quietly.

I got up, paced the living room, and attempted to explain.

"God, I'm so sorry. I…It's the wine. Forget I just did that, okay?"

Rose raised her eyebrows at me. She wasn't one for putting up with bullshit. "We've gotten tipsy plenty of times and this," she paused to wag a finger between us. "Never happened before. What's up?"

I pulled my fingers through my hair.

"The other day Isabella asked if you could be her mom. The way she asked it...it just hurt my heart, you know? She's my kid; I'd give her the moon if she wanted. So, I got this crazy idea that maybe you and I could be a couple. You'd be Isabella's stepmom, and all would be right in her world. Anyway, I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." I attempted to wave off the whole awkward situation.

Rosalie came over to where I was standing, placed her hand on my bicep and smiled.

"Edward, you've been my knight in shining armor countless times. When everything happened with Royce, you were the one who helped me pick up the pieces. You and I, we have this amazing friendship; that's been such a blessing to me and—"

"And I almost fucked everything up. I know."

Rosalie shook her head. "No, you didn't. Let's go with blaming the wine."

I nodded. She nodded. We paused. And then our mouths crashed together.

The kiss caught us both off guard and I was pushed backward against the wall, knocking off a picture. Rosalie's breasts - holy shit - were flush against my chest and I swear I could feel her heart beating as furiously as mine. While her hands tugged in my hair, mine circled around her waist. My fingers found the soft, bare skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up.

Things intensified quickly and we found ourselves fumbling down the hallway to my bedroom - whether stumbling from drunkenness or desire, I'm not even sure. Rosalie's shirt was left somewhere in our wake, and I nearly tripped as I shed my pants. It was all déjà vu like back to Ally, except this time I had condoms in my night stand and I knew how to use them.

Once in my room, Rose shimmied backward up the bed while I struggled with the buttons of my shirt. I finally rid myself of it and tossed it aside. Beautiful aqua eyes took in my naked torso. Rosalie trailed one finger down my abs before hooking it into the waistband of my boxers and pulled me closer to her.

"You've been working out."

I shrugged it off, but it felt good to be noticed and appreciated.

Speaking of noticed - wow, Rosalie looked _hot_. Still dressed in her jeans, she wore a black lace bra and I groaned at the stunning sight. Full breasts, flat stomach, and a trio of butterfly tattoos that looked to be in flight along her rib cage…God, Rosalie was beautiful.

I emitted a low growl before I pressed my lips to each colorfully inked butterfly and worked my way back up to her mouth. It was easy to lose myself in those kisses, in the scent that lingered on her skin; in the idea of what could be.

While the woman under me was gorgeous, supermodel hot, and apparently a fantastic kisser, through the haze of drunken lust I realized she was still Rosalie - one of my best friends.

The angel on my shoulder reminded me if we crossed the invisible line our relationship would be forever changed. Was I willing to risk her friendship for a night of sex? Hell yes, the devil on my shoulder enthused. Rosalie and I could be friends with benefits. Easy.

Except it wouldn't be that easy. And as much as the thought of having sex appealed to me - you have no idea - I knew there were a million other moments I'd be jeopardizing if we continued. Before I could let the devil convince me otherwise, Rosalie pulled away.

"Edward, what are we doing?" she asked, still breathless from the kisses. She sat up, effectively pushing me off her.

I shook my head, trying to find a coherent thought. "I have no idea."

We sat in silence beside each other on the bed, our backs up against my headboard, feet outstretched in front of us.

"I'm sorry." Rosalie reached for my hand as she apologized.

"Why are you sorry? This was my asinine idea."

"I didn't exactly push you away." She gave me a sheepish grin.

"Rose, I'm so sorry. Shit. This isn't going to make things weird between us, is it?"

"What could be weird about two best friends being half naked in bed together?" She teased. "Pass me your shirt." I grabbed my shirt off the floor and handed it to her.

"Thanks." Rose slipped it on. Foregoing the buttons, she crisscrossed the material in front to cover her breasts. She took extreme care to roll up the sleeves. I paid special attention to the imaginary lint on the quilt. We looked everywhere but at each other.

"Hey." Rosalie nudged her shoulder against mine. "You're not a bad kisser, you know."

"You're not so bad yourself." We exchanged smiles as we fell back into silence. With a quiet voice Rosalie spoke in a thoughtful tone.

"You're a good man, Edward, and more importantly a great father. One day you'll find the girl who'll be perfect for you…and Isabella. Unfortunately, it's not me - as much as I wish it were. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I was drunk off the idea that our platonic love would be enough to fill the void in my little girl's heart."

"Isabella will be just fine. She'll grow up to be a intelligent, beautiful, and successful woman. She's stronger and braver than you give her credit for. And so are you." Rosalie leaned over and kissed my cheek. "It's late; I should probably head back to my place."

At my door I wasn't sure how to bid her good night. We had one of those awkward moments, me still shirtless, her in my button down, where I stuck out my hand and she leaned in for a hug. Rose frowned.

"I have no plans to let this make things awkward between us. Now give me a hug goodnight, you dork."

Eventually, Rosalie found someone who loved her without boundaries in the all-consuming way a man should love a woman. And once I got over the fact that Emmett was sleeping with _my_ babysitter, I was cool with them being together. They had a whirlwind romance, marrying just five months after they started dating. I was their best man, and cried like a baby.


	9. Chapter 8

"Hey, Rosalie? Can I ask a personal question?" It was a Saturday night and the three of us were out for dinner while Isabella was with her bestie for a sleepover.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Isabella's 11; you know, about _that_ age. When will she, uh, get her—"

"I've gotta take a leak," Emmett announced.

 _Chicken shit_.

Rose laughed as Emmett scooted from the table. "I think I was 12, maybe 13."

I gave a sigh of relief because that meant I had another year or two before I had to deal with...that.

"But you should talk to her about that now."

"Whoa! What? Talk? Who said anything about talking? I was going to give her a wad of cash and buy her a book. When I was a kid all the girls were reading some Margaret period book."

Rose rolled her eyes. "That book was outdated when _I_ was a kid. Face it, Edward, you're going to have to say the word 'menstruation' aloud. And you should do it relatively soon because if she doesn't have all the information in advance, she could freak out when it happens."

" _I'll_ be the one freaking out when it happens!"

"Relax."

Relax! How the fuck was I supposed to relax when I was squirming in my seat already?

"Talking about periods will be far easier than having the sex talk."

My hand hit my forehead. I couldn't even go there. Ugh.

In the most simplistic way - and despite Emmett begging her to stop because he was trying to eat - Rosalie explained things to me so I could relay the information to Isabella. She went so far as to suggest I take her bra shopping at the same time. "Make it a fun, girly afternoon," Rosalie said. "It'll be fun." Yeah, as much fun as the cough-cough test at the doctor or a fucking root canal.

It took me three weeks to work up the courage to have the dreaded talk with my daughter. I walked down the hall to her room, pausing outside the door to collect myself. I needed to act casual, as if it was no big deal. Getting her...her...Fuck, I was screwed.

I knocked quietly then let myself in. Isabella was sitting up in bed, gangly legs stretched out in front of her as she read a book. How had my baby grown up so fast? I snuck a look at the book cover, hoping it was the Margaret period book and my work here would be done, but no such luck. She closed it as I walked in, hugging it to her chest.

"Hey," I said as she smiled at me. "Can I sit down?"

Isabella nodded, shuffling over a bit to make room for me.

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Increasing my allowance?" Isabella asked hopefully. I shook my head.

"Nice try, sweetheart. Bear with me here, okay?"

"Okay?" She squirmed a bit and I could feel my heart starting to pound in anticipation of what was sure to be an awkward and embarrassing conversation. Bonding, my ass.

"So, uh, pretty soon, there's going to be some changes happening."

"We're not moving, are we?"

"What? No, no. Nothing like that. I'm talking about your body and how soon it will be changing into that of a woman."

Isabella inched further away from me. I ignored her and continued.

"You'll grow…." I paused and rudely gestured with both hands in front of me. _Idiot._ I put my hands down and tried to use my brain to find adequate words.

"I meant to say you'll grow boobs. Uh, breasts. Technically they're called breasts. I thought maybe this weekend we could go buy you a … brassiere."

 _Brassiere? What the actual fuck - who called it that?_

Isabella's jaw fell open. "Like together?" She shook her head frantically. "Nooooo! Can't you just give me money and I'll go with my friends?"

I wanted to facepalm myself. "That sounds like a much better idea."

"Thank God. Are we done here?"

"Unfortunately, no. There are other things you need to be aware of. You may, sorry, you _will_ , get hair...uh, down there. But you can wax or shave, some or all..." I scratched my head not knowing how to explain a landing strip to an eleven year old.

"Never mind that. One day you'll start men-stru-ating." The only way I could say the word was to break it down to syllables. I sounded like a moron. "I bought some...things for that. They're under the bathroom sink. And it's nothing to be afraid of. It means you're becoming a woman." I fake smiled. It all sounded like horseshit to me but I prayed Isabella was gullible enough to believe it was something to look forward to - like the cherry on top of the sundae I was going to have to take her out for after this horrifying talk.

"Yeah, we watched a video about that stuff in health class last year so I kind of know what to expect."

Damn it. I knew I should have just handed her cash and called it a day.

"Okay, cool. Do you have any questions?" I got up to leave, hoping she didn't have any. I'd studied the leaflets that came with the feminine hygiene products just in case but I really hoped I wasn't put to the test. Isabella shrugged and bit her lip and, fuck, I knew that look. She wanted to ask me something but didn't know how. I sat back down.

"Look, I know I'm not an expert but you can still talk to me about anything." I tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She paused for a moment, fidgeting anxiously the blurted out her question.

"What was my mom like?"

My breath caught in my throat. That was the last question I was expecting. Ally wasn't someone we talked about - ever. I scrubbed my hand over my face knowing this was probably the beginning of a string of difficult questions I would have to answer. I think talking tampons and pads would be an easier topic of discussion.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"No offense, but it'd be a lot easier to talk to another girl about this kind of stuff."

"There's always Rosalie."

Isabella shook her head; I frowned as it dawned on me.

"You're talking about having a mom. Someone to go shoe shopping with or getting a pedicure with. I get it." And I did - so much so that my heart hurt with the realization.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Las Vegas, last I heard."

"How come I never see her?"

"Well, when you were three we went to court and she signed over her parental rights to me. That means you're with me, and only me, all the time."

That February morning was the last time I'd seen Ally. She said very little during the court proceedings except to tell the judge she understood signing the documents meant she was giving sole custody to me, therefore forfeiting visitation, etcetera. It was only a formality - we'd had zero contact since the night she'd walked out. Those court papers were my way of protecting both Isabella and myself in case Ally tried to pull some kind of bullshit in the future. And she'd better not ever try.

"She didn't want to be my mom?"

My fingers raked through my hair. "It's … complicated."

Isabella looked at me expectantly and waited patiently. I rolled a kink out of my neck before I started way back at the beginning.

"Your mom and I, we met at a party. We were young, barely seventeen. We got drunk and…and..."

"I get it, Dad. You had sex. I know how babies are made." She sort of smirked and I nodded.

"Right, so we...did that. It was a one time thing. I mean we weren't boyfriend/girlfriend." It was weird for me to admit she was conceived after a loveless one-night stand. Isabella didn't seem to be phased, and waited for me to continue.

I told her about Ally's parents kicking her out, how I got a job, and gave up the scholarship so I could be home and try to build a relationship with her mom.

"We tried our best to be a family but we were kids raising a kid. Your mom and I were at each other's throats, constantly bickering about stupid things. When you were almost four months old, things got to be too much for her. Ally was so overwhelmed and she...Your mom left because she..."

Fuck. I couldn't do it - I couldn't break Isabella's heart. Turned out I didn't need to say anything. My daughter wasn't stupid.

"Are you saying she didn't want to be my mom anymore?" Her words felt like a knife sliding into my gut.

I held her hands in mine, tightly- probably too tight.

"Ally left because she was sick. Up here." I tapped my temple. "Anyone who can walk away from their own child without a backward glance has something wrong with them."

"How come you never told me all this before?" Isabella's voice was rough as she fought back tears.

"You never asked."

Isabella rolled her eyes as if to say 'nice try, Dad.' I knew I owed her a better explanation than that. I took a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I couldn't have you hate her. Whether I like it or not, she's your mother. Years of resentment and hatred for that woman created a monster inside me. It's not a side I'm proud of, and I never wanted you to have that...that poison in your heart."

"Do you think she ever loved me?" She asked, her brow furrowed.

"I do." I nodded, hand over my heart. I thought back to the one photo of us from the day Isabella was born. Irrefutable, tangible love.

"What about now? Does she love me now?" Tears slipped down her cheeks and she wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve.

My hand scratched the stubble on my chin. "I'm going to be brutally honest here and say I don't know. God, it kills me to say that but I don't know because I haven't seen or talked to her in years."

"I hate her."

"Me too, baby, so much."

And as much as I hated Ally, it was incredibly difficult for me to hear Isabella agree with my sentiments. I never wanted that for her. I wanted it for _me_ , but not for her. I don't even know if that makes sense but...

Isabella pulled her knees to her chest and folded in on herself. Tears streamed down her face and her body trembled with sobs. I gathered her into my arms as she unraveled. There were no words I could say to fix the pain she was in. I fucking despised Ally even more for making my daughter hurt so much. The broken girl in my arms was exactly why I never wanted Isabella to know the truth.

And it killed me to know I was also to blame for those tears. Fuck. Maybe I shouldn't have let Ally leave that night. When she said her goodbye, I should have begged her to stay. Not for me, but for Isabella. She deserved a mother and it wasn't fair of me to deny her that. Any mom would've been better than no mom. Who was I kidding, thinking I could be everything she needed?

There wasn't any point in holding back my own tears; they were years in the making. I wasn't crying for all the things I'd given up to raise my daughter, because none of that mattered. They were tears of sadness, anger, and frustration for Isabella. Tears for a little girl - _my_ little girl, who lost so much and it was all my fault.

"Isabella, I'm so sorry." I choked out my apology.

"Why are _you_ sorry?"

I brushed my tears away with the palms of my hands.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a mom. I should've tried harder when I had the chance - fought for you. Begged Ally not to leave. Picked up another job, or done more around the house or….I don't know, but maybe there was _something_ I could've done."

There was a long moment of silence. I was afraid of what Isabella would say next. Agree with me that I'd made a monumental mistake? Tell me she wanted to find Ally? Get to know her; try to make her mom love her? In that long breathless pause, my mind wandered to places I was terrified of - for her sake and mine. When she finally spoke Isabella said something my heart had known all along.

"Don't you think if she wanted to be in my life she would be?"

It was a hard realization for an almost eleven year old to come to. I nodded because she was right. Damn it, she was right. I dried my tears. I hugged her tighter.

"You had a scholarship? I didn't know that."

"I did. I was destined for sunny So Cal. I may have actually gotten a tan, imagine that." I chuckled. I was always teased because I was perpetually pale.

"You gave it up? For me?"

I shook my head. "No, I gave it up for _us_. But I'd give up everything and anything for you."

"It sounds like you did." Isabella frowned, turning away from me.

"Hey, look at me. I have no regrets about the things I gave up. Not one. I'd do it all again, a thousand times."

Silence slipped into the room, a welcome break. I continued to hold my daughter close.

"Have you ever been in love? I mean it doesn't sound like you and my mom had that...spark Gramma and Grandpa do."

"Have I ever been in love?" I smiled. "Oh, most definitely I have."

"Tell me!" She pulled away from me to hear the story.

"Well, she came into my life quite unexpectedly. She was beautiful but not only physically. Her beauty came from within - a heart so pure and kind. We'd stay in bed until ten o'clock on lazy Saturday mornings and slow dance around the living room after we got up. God, I used to love dancing with her. I'd hold her close, singing off-key, and she'd lay her head on my shoulder as we'd sway to the beat. She was the kind of girl who made me fall in love with her laugh, and made me forget my name when she told me she loved me. And I love her back, tenfold. So, yes, I've been so in love I thought I was going mad with it."

Isabella was as captivated by my story as my heart was captivated by her. "Wow. Why aren't you with her? Sounds like she's your soulmate."

"She is. She certainly is." I tapped the tip of her nose with my index finger.

"Da-ad! I thought you were talking about some old girlfriend."

I shook my head. "Nope. You're the one who taught me about love, sweetheart. There's only one girl for me and her name is Isabella."

She smiled. "I love you, Daddy"

"I love you, too. To the moon and back."

* * *

 _Thank you all so much for continuing to read and review. I read and reply to all your comments, so please leave a little love._

Alanna: love you, girl xoxox  
Bee: you helped me so much with this chapter - thank you xo


	10. Chapter 9

I'm always reminded of my mother's wise words: the days are long, but the years are short. Somehow those long days stretch into weeks, dissolving into years before my blind eyes.

When Isabella was little, I was so caught up in the busy day-to-day activities of life as a single parent that the subtle changes in her went unnoticed by me. It would hit me hard when I saw a random snapshot or photograph of my daughter that captured a glimpse of the young lady she was becoming. There would be a look in her eye or a flash of her smile that was more mature than I thought she was. Sometimes the moment would catch me off guard; forcing me to stop, take notice, and be present.

I had one of those moments when Isabella was 16. Coming home from work on a Friday afternoon I found her in the living room, smiling to herself as she texted back and forth with a friend. She was sprawled out in the recliner, the same worn, now threadbare chair I'd had in my parent's basement. I'd thought about disposing of the ugly old thing but I liked the memories it held for me. I didn't have to close my eyes to see myself dozing off with my baby curled up on my chest, both of us with content smiles on our faces. The chair was like a time machine and for that reason I kept it, and the memories, close to my heart.

Before me, lounging sideways on that old recliner, legs dangling over, was a girl on the brink of adulthood. Time sprung ahead and left my baby in its wake.

I looked past the memories and took notice of Isabella's bare legs. There was a time when Hello Kitty Bandaids were a regular accessory. Not today. There weren't any fresh scabs on her knees or bruises on her shins. Something seemingly insignificant made me realize the years had gone by so quickly. The circling hands on the clock reached the future I thought was so far away.

My baby girl wasn't a baby any more. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Though my relationship with her mother was non-existent I could see the best of both of us manifested in our daughter. Eyes the color of rich soil, flecked with black and amber were a carbon copy of her mother's. Her mouth too, but she had my nose and pale complexion. Isabella's long, dirty blonde hair - no idea who she got that from - had hints of copper in sunlight, similar to mine. Usually wavy, today she'd flat ironed it, wearing it loose and spilling over her left shoulder. She absentmindedly played with the strands, twisting it into ringlets with her index finger.

I sat down on the armrest of the chair and kissed the top of her head. Even though she was growing up, she'd always be my little girl, with or without skinned knees.

"Hey, beautiful girl. How was school?"

Isabella smiled at my compliment though she didn't look up from her conversation.

"Good."

"Great. Hey, uh, is there a reason why you're not wearing pants?"

Isabella glanced down. "I'm wearing shorts."

Yes, they were certainly that. All I could see was thigh - too much thigh. I loathed that September heat wave, not only because of the atypical skyrocketing temperatures but also because it meant Isabella wore clothes that were far too short and revealing for my liking.

"Did you wear that to school today?"

"Uh, yeah." She rolled her eyes which I interpreted to mean I was the least cool dad in the state. I flash-backed to my mom lecturing me about my disheveled hair and sagging pants which were usually low enough to see the band of my Calvin Kleins. Apparently, this was called payback. Lovely.

"Do you have any plans for tonight? I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat, maybe catch a movie? What do you say – want a date with your old man?"

Isabella was apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry Dad, I'm busy tonight. I have to work on this stupid biology project for school and I'm meeting some classmates at the library at six." She looked at the time on her phone. "I'm going to have a bath before I need to get ready to head out." She hopped off the chair and planted a kiss on my cheek before disappearing into the bathroom.

I chuckled at the amount of time she needed to get ready but the years with Rosalie in my life had prepared me for the primping and priming girls required.

Ninety minutes later, as Rosalie, Emmett, and I were settling in to watch the Mariners, Isabella emerged from the bathroom. Rose gave a low whistle.

"Hot date, kiddo?"

The absurdity of the comment was funny until panic made me catch my breath when Isabella didn't deny it. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders as a blush crept from her neck to the very tips of her ears. Emmett and I exchanged worried glances.

I was dumbfounded. Isabella was going on a date? If I'd had some warning I would have sat her down and had a talk with her. You know - _the_ talk. About boys and their grabby hands and perverted minds.

"I- I thought you told me you were going to the library?" I stuttered.

"I am."

"Is that how kids dress to go to the library nowadays?" Emmett crossed his arms over his chest in protective pseudo-daddy mode.

" _Nowadays_?" Rosalie mocked. "What's wrong with her outfit, _Grandpa_? She looks great."

"I'm with Emmett. Isabella, you aren't going out like that."

"Like what? It's just jeans and a shirt."

Isabella looped her thumb into her belt loop, the silver bangles on her arm clanked together as they slid down her wrist. She stood with her hip jutted out slightly, legs shoulder width apart. When Isabella looked down to survey her outfit, her shirt slipped off her shoulder revealing a skinny, black bra strap.

Hell to the N. O. 'Just jeans and a shirt', my ass.

In five strides I made it over to her and adjusted her top, covering her bare shoulder. No sooner had I done that and the other side slipped down.

"See? Your shirt doesn't even fit you properly." I threw my hands up in exasperation.

"It's the style." Isabella huffed.

"You can't go out with a naked shoulder and...and...toe cleavage!" I pointed at her feet where you could clearly see the partial exposure of her toes in shoes that were cut way too low.

"Oh no! I have toe cleavage! Nothing sexier than that." My daughter mocked.

Rosalie attempted to cover up her snort with a fake cough. I glared at her.

"People judge you by the way you look. It isn't fair, but it's the way the world works. You need to keep that in mind when choosing your outfit."

Oh my God, I _was_ turning into my parents.

"And what exactly does toe cleavage say about me?" She raised her eyebrow in question. To be honest, I didn't have an answer but I did have a response - my old stand-by.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. I'm your father. Go change."

"Fine." Except her 'fine' wasn't of the 'fuck you' variety so I knew it wasn't really fine. Isabella continued. "I'll just go put on the shorts I had on earlier."

Check and mate. She smirked and I growled under my breath.

"Why are you all dressed up anyway? I thought you were meeting a group of classmates?"

"I am."

Rosalie smiled. "I'm guessing one of those classmates happens to be cute."

Isabella's face was confirmation.

"What's his name?" I tried not to sound anxious but by barking my question I didn't succeed.

"Jake."

I swallowed hard. "That sounds like a boy's name."

"Uh, yeah, it would be."

"Jake what?"

"Dad…" Isabella started to protest, relenting when she saw it wasn't up for debate. She sighed. "Black. Jacob Black."

"What's his social security number?" Emmett demanded.

"How old is he?"

"Where does he live?"

"What does he drive?"

"What's his mother's maiden name?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes as Emmett and I threw out rapid-fire questions. "Ignore them, honey. Is he cute?"

"Not as cute as my dad." Isabella worked her magic seamlessly.

"Is this a _date_ date? I thought you weren't supposed to date anyone but me?" I pouted and Isabella gave me a sympathetic look.

"Look, it's not a date. We were paired up by our teacher for this stupid project. Jake's captain of the football team, extremely popular and, yeah, I think he's cute so I wanted to look nice, okay? Besides, I'm not anywhere near his radar so don't get all worked up." She looked down and frowned.

Her insecurities instantly brought me back to my youth when life, even before Ally, was complicated. Always trying to fit in; to figure out if one girl's fluttering eyelashes were a sign of adoration or bad eyesight. I lifted her chin with my hand.

"Baby girl, you look better than nice. You look beautiful and this Jake kid would be crazy not to notice." Isabella gave me a half smile. "But if he lays one finger on you, he's a dead man." I gave her a wink but I was far from joking.

"May I go now?"

I nodded. "Do you want a ride?"

"No, thank you."

"I promise I won't follow you into the library or otherwise embarrass you."

Isabella glanced over at Emmett. "It's not you I'm worried about."

Rosalie draped her arm around her husband's shoulder. "Don't worry about him, I'll make sure he stays out of trouble."

"Thanks. I've gotta go. I'll be home just after nine." She gave me a quick hug before she grabbed her book bag and closed the door behind her.

I stared after her as I sank down onto the couch. Perhaps I was being melodramatic but her leaving felt like an exodus of her childhood. Life would only get more complicated with the addition of the opposite sex in our lives. I was afraid the first boy who broke her heart would also break mine.

"Our girl's growing up." Emmett spoke quietly.

"She is. I don't like it." I rubbed my hands over my face.

"She's not six anymore, guys. Yeah, she _is_ growing up and into a lovely young woman."

"Who likes boys," I bemoaned.

Rosalie passed me a beer, not in celebration but in consolation. "We knew it was only a matter of time."

"Do you think she's actually going to the library?"

"Emmett, of course she is. Isabella's a great kid with a good head on her shoulders. She got that from you, you know." Rose smiled at me. "Trust her. At least until she gives you reason not to."

"It's not her I'm worried about. Boys suck sometimes," I whined.

"For sure." Emmett agreed.

"Relax. Let's watch the game, okay? The library closes at nine - it's a ten minute walk home so by 9:15, at the very latest, you can grill Isabella to your heart's content." She knew me well.

Emmett and Rosalie left at nine so Isabella and I could talk privately when she got home. By 9:18 I was pacing the floor and sporting a few more grey hairs. Walking the floor with a colicky baby was far easier than waiting around for my daughter to get home from a non-date with a boy. If I could have manipulated time to rewind 16 years I would have, in a heartbeat.

When she finally came home at 9:20 and 32 seconds I tried to look casual by tidying up the already clean kitchen.

"Oh, hi. Are you home already?"

Isabella's lips twisted into a smirk. "How long have you been wiping that same spot on the counter?"

I gave her a sheepish grin. "That obvious, huh?"

"Yep." She dropped her bag on the floor and sat down at the kitchen table. I tossed the rag into the sink and sat across from her.

"How'd it go?"

"Good, I guess. We got a good chunk of the project done."

"How was, oh shoot, what was his name again? Jason?" I feigned stupidity so she wouldn't think he was all I'd thought about while she was out.

"Nice try, Dad. Jake was good. It was really strange, though. He couldn't stop staring at my toe cleavage all night." She mocked.

I traced a figure eight on the tabletop, wondering if I should probe further. "So, nothing significant to report?"

Isabella shook her head. "Nope. We worked on the project and then he walked Leah and me home. Sorry, that's why I was a bit late; we detoured to her house first." She grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter and took a bite. "Who won the game?" She asked with a mouthful.

Isabella was quick, too quick, to change the subject. I side-eyed her, wondering if something happened at the library or on the walk home. My heart leapt and got stuck in my throat. What if he'd kissed her? I distinctly remembered my first kiss, which coincided with my first boob grope. Boys, even the best of them, are pervy, horny bastards. I knew it was time for me to warn my daughter about my species. I dreaded having _the talk_ but unless I wanted to be a grandpa before I hit 40, it had to be done.

Selfishly, I wanted to enjoy at least one more night with my not-so-little girl before I did. So I let her change the subject and we spent the rest of the night watching a movie. The talk would come soon enough.

* * *

 _Someone nominated this story for best snuggle fic and me for potential best-selling author. I was shocked to be nominated in the first place but never expected it would be for those categories._ _ _There are so many other stories and authors who are far more deserving than me but I thank you for the nomination - what an honor! A heart-felt thank you to Iris aka Mariah Hajile for her tireless work on the contest. In case you haven't been told this today - you're incredible. And so is Alanna Capricorn75 for being my friend and beta.__

And so much appreciation for each of your reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a note if you did.


	11. Chapter 10

I met 17 year old Jacob Black the following week. Isabella brought him to the coffee shop after school to finish working on their project. He dressed nice enough - jeans and a sweater over a button down shirt; his jet black hair shaggy and falling into his eyes. I resisted asking what his intentions with my daughter were, instead inquiring as to his plans after high school. Jake smiled, telling me he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and become a mechanic. He was polite and respectful; called me 'sir' and shook my hand. It was hard to find fault with the guy.

But I did.

Too preppy.

Too tall.

Needed a haircut.

Big, overly-bleached teeth.

As he and I stood at the counter talking, Isabella grabbed a table.

And then it happened - his eyes drifted over and he checked out her ass. My. Daughter's. Ass. Seriously?

"Are you okay, Mr. Cullen?"

"Huh?" I shook my head.

"You just growled. Are you okay?

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm fine."

 _Fucker._

That should've been my red flag that Jacob Black would be the bane of my existence. But I decided to cut him some slack because, once upon a time, I was a teenager, too. I wasn't ballsy enough to check out my girlfriend's ass in front of her dad, mind you. Oh wait. There was the small issue of me knocking up a girl after a one night stand.

With an ice water for him and a sweet tea for her, they sat at a table by the front window. There they worked steadily on the project for an hour and a half. I watched them the whole time, trying to read into their relationship. Unfortunately, I was staring at the back of their heads which gave me nothing to go on - although it did reinforce my opinion that the boy needed a haircut.

"What's up?" Emmett asked as he came to stand beside me.

"That's 'science project' boy. Jake." I nodded in their direction. He watched with me, arms folded across his broad chest, looking ready to pounce if Jake tried anything funny, which wouldn't be funny at all. After five minutes or so, Emmett seemed to get bored.

"It looks innocent enough. I wouldn't worry it until you have to."

Isabella approached us, huge grin on her face.

"Jake's offered to take me home. He's got his bike out front."

"He wants to double you home on the back of his bike?" I chuckled.

 _Loser._

"His _motorbike_ , but yes."

I choked on my coffee and Emmett shook his head vigorously.

"You can take that as a no," he replied on my behalf.

"Hell no!" I managed to sputter.

"Your dad was just about to leave, weren't you, Edward? He'll walk you home instead."

Isabella's smile faded slightly but she didn't protest as she went back to Jake.

The two of them stood there talking, Isabella with her backpack slung over one shoulder, fingers toying with the strap and him with his hands shoved into the front pocket of his jeans. They weren't touching, and there was adequate space between them, yet I felt the overwhelming urge to pull them apart.

Whenever Jake moved, Isabella seemed to mirror him. His hand pulled through his hair and Isabella ran her fingers through the length of hers. He laughed and Isabella smiled - one of those smiles that made her eyes crinkle. It was as though I was watching them in slow motion, every frame a well-coordinated dance. There was _something_ about them which equally captivated _and_ worried the fuck out of me.

Isabella walked Jake outside and the sound of the bell above the door made me shake my head out of the trance.

Emmett turned to me as I shrugged into my coat. "Okay, you can probably worry about it now."

...

"So, uh, Jake seems nice enough," I said using my most casual tone once we got home. I started dinner prep while Isabella set the table for us.

"Uh huh."

I grabbed a head of lettuce out of the fridge to make a salad. "Still nothing significant to report?" I waited not-so-patiently for her response.

"He, um...Jake kissed me today. After school. And again when we were leaving the cafe."

I ripped the lettuce off the head forcibly, wishing it were Jake's fat head I were ripping off his body. Isabella didn't notice.

"He kissed you. Huh."

 _Asshole._

I glanced over at my daughter. She had her fingers pressed to her lips. I set the lettuce aside. Dinner could wait; I was suddenly no longer hungry.

"I think we need to have a little chat." I sat down at the table.

Isabella froze, her eyes bulging out.

"What? No, please don't do this. It was one kiss. One!" She held up a finger to make her point.

"Technically it was two," I corrected.

"I get how it all works," Isabella's hands flailed about. "So, see, we really don't need to have this conversation."

I wasn't reassured by the fact she knew the mechanics of it, although I was certainly glad I didn't have to explain the play by play of how _tha_ t goes in _there_.

"Actually, we do. Because kissing is fun and the … other stuff … is fun. It all leads to … more, uh...fun stuff. Have a seat."

 _God, I couldn't even use grown up words. This was going to be painful for both of us._

"I know about the fun stuff," Isabella huffed as she sat down.

I choked on her words. "You know? Like _know_ know?"

Thank God Isabella answered quickly because I was holding my breath until she did.

"Not from personal experience." Her face was flaming. "Leah told me."

"Leah? Are Leah and Sam...are they….?" I couldn't imagine Isabella's sweet and seemingly innocent best friend being sexually active.

My daughter nodded. "You cannot tell her parents! Promise me. She'd kill me!"

"I promise. I won't say a word." I made a criss cross motion across my chest. "So, what does Leah say about it?"

"I dunno. That it feels good. We don't really get into specifics."

That it feels good. Ugh.

 _Thanks for nothing, Leah._

"You, uh...shit. Youknowyoucanmakeyourselffeelgood, right?"

Word vomit spewed out before I could stop myself. Immediately, I wanted to snatch those words back from where they hung in the air.

 _Fuck._

What if Isabella had no idea what I was talking about? I didn't know at what age girls started … doing that. I scratched my head, hoping I wouldn't have to explain the how-to on that one. What words would I even use? I didn't even know if it was pronounced clit-or-us or clit-or-is. Should I just call it a love button? Nub?

Maybe I should shut the fuck up and cue a movie on my laptop. I highly doubted that would win me father of the year, though at this point I clearly wasn't in the running at all.

Should I admit that I … engaged in …. _that_ regularly or would it only make things weird? Who the fuck was I kidding? It was already totally fucking weird. Where the hell was Rosalie when I needed her?

Thankfully, Isabella blushed even more which I took to mean she understood. And I wasn't sure how I felt about that either, but whatever.

"Okay, that's good. It's normal to….I mean, I do…on occasion."

 _Or three/four times a week._

Isabella's head smacked down on the kitchen table as she groaned.

"So, you've kissed other boys?" I asked casually, as if simply making conversation.

Her head, still planted on the table, nodded.

"Have you… so uh, what base have you gotten to?"

She made a noise that sounded like a cow dying a slow, torturous death. I knew the feeling. She raised two fingers in the shape of a V. It was supposed to symbolize victory and peace. I felt anything but peaceful.

"For someone who hasn't played baseball in quite a while, second base would be…?" I couldn't believe I had to ask my kid what the bases were. Pretty certain I was more mortified than she was at that point.

Isabella lifted her head, leaving her hair partially covering her red face. "Gah! Dad! Can't you Google it or something?"

I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed my question into Yahoo.

 _What's considered first, second, third base?_

Thanks to my fast internet speed, there wasn't time for me to brace for the answer.

The four F's. First: French. Second: Fondling. Third: Fingering/Fellatio. Home: Fuck.

Fuck was right. Fuck me. And fuck you, Yahoo.

I cleared my throat. "You know it's okay to wait, right? Sixteen is awfully young to be...rushing into things."

"You and Mom didn't wait."

There it was the question that was sixteen years in the making. Touche.

"You're right. We didn't. We were young and stupid and made a mistake. Not that I'm calling you a mistake. Because you, pretty girl," I held her chin in my hand. "You're the best thing I never knew I wanted. But having a kid at eighteen was hard. It still is."

"No offense, but I'm not stupid. I know where to buy condoms and how to correctly put them on. Health class, ya know?"

"Great." _Just fucking great. Thanks a lot, public education._

"I had a condom available that night, too, but…"

"But apparently you didn't use it." Her eyebrow raised.

 _Smart ass._

"Anyway. One time was all it took."

 _Me and my super sperm_.

"What would you do if you got pregnant?"

 _Besides die because I'd kill you. And him. Definitely him, too._

"First of all, today was just one kiss. Okay, two. Please remember that. I'm not going to hump him tomorrow."

Hearing my daughter use the word 'hump' was wrong. Very, very wrong. I almost threw up in my mouth.

"And second, if I did get pregnant, you'd help me out. You're my dad."

I snorted hearing my own words reverberated back at me from my child. "I can barely handle the kid I have."

"I don't think this is a big deal." Isabella protested.

"Fine, maybe a kiss or two isn't, but _sex_ is. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise or pressure you into doing it. Contrary to what guys may say, blue balls are not fatal."

 _I should know._

"Blue balls? Do I want to know?"

"Probably not. Just know it won't kill a guy if he doesn't get laid. And it's perfectly fine to say no - at any point. You don't need to have sex to keep a guy. Ever."

I couldn't tell her that too many times.

"Had I known my telling you about a kiss would result in this, I would've kept my mouth shut."

I stretched my arm across the table and held her hand. "Hey. I know this is uncomfortable and incredibly weird, but we need to be able to talk about this stuff. Being intimate with someone can be even more uncomfortable than this. Trust me."

Isabella tilted her head in confusion. "Why?"

"Having someone else see all your flaws and imperfections? Having to maneuver your way around the back seat of a car..." I shuddered at the memory of my first time.

Jessica and I crammed in the back of her Honda Civic; my too-tall and gangly body twisted awkwardly. One of my knees was jammed by the emergency brake, the other in the back footwell. Jess had to guide me in because I wasn't quite hitting the mark. Afterward, I had no idea how to get rid of the used condom or where to put it. I ended up shoving it in my pants pocket. Nasty.

I looked at my daughter and we were both making the same disgusted face.

"Why would anyone do it then?"

"Sex can be as beautiful as it can be awkward," I explained softly.

Tori taught me about making love. More often than not, it was just sex between us. There were a handful of times, though, where I lost my heart in the moment. When, in the aftermath, tears stung my eyes because the emotional connection was too surreal for words. It hurt remembering those moments with Tori because it was a type of love I wasn't privy to. The sort of love my parents shared, one I'd only had a glimpse of and wanted more of.

"All I'm asking is you not rush into anything."

"Can you trust me to make the right decisions? I'm not a baby anymore."

"But you're _my_ baby. I trust you but not 16 and 17 year old boys. I once was one, remember?"

 _Disgusting, rotten, vile, porn watching, masturbating pigs._

"Can we call it a night? I have homework." We both knew it was bullshit but I nodded and let her go.

"Isabella? One more thing."

She rolled her eyes. "What now?"

"I want to get to know this Jake character."

 _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer._

Isabella smiled. "You'll like him."

"I'm sure I will." I lied.

And so began the Isabella 'hearts' Jacob chapter of our life. Barf.

* * *

 ** _Week after week you blow me away with your kindness via reviews, PMs, and FB posts. Thank you all so much. The fabulous Honeybee Meadows helped me so much with this chapter and Capricorn75 made it look pretty. Love you both.  
_**


	12. Chapter 11

I fucking hated Jake Black.

Technically, I hated the _idea_ of him - someone who could potentially be more important or more influential to my daughter than I was. I'm man enough to admit Jake intimidated me, and not only by his good looks and toned physique. He made my daughter happy and _that's_ what scared me. For a long time _I_ was the only one who could elicit a smile from Isabella, and then this...this guy...walked in and bumped me out of contention.

Those first few weeks they were inseparable. To the point where she didn't seem to need me except for food and shelter. As difficult as it was to have an infant/toddler dependent on me 24/7, it was even harder to have her _not_ need me. It left me feeling conflicted. True, I wanted to raise Isabella into an independent young woman but I wasn't quite ready for that reality to set in yet.

I also wasn't ready to be a grandfather. Even though they'd just started seeing each other, I set up an appointment for Isabella with Rosalie's gynecologist to put on birth control. Kids experiment and fool around; they have unprotected sex. If it wasn't with Jake, it'd be with some other jerk. I didn't want my daughter to think I was encouraging her to have sex, and I would've preferred if she waited until she was 30 before that happened (better yet, just become a nun) but I'm not that naive. So on the pill she went.

On a positive note, for a new couple, Jake and Isabella were generally decent. They didn't kiss, grope, or make goo-goo eyes at each other in front of me. No disgusting PDA or 'we' talk. You know 'we' talk - where a single person loses their identity and becomes a couple, only referring to themselves in the plural. Emmett and Rosalie fell into this category. Annoying as fuck.

Jake was ultra respectful. He all but wrote their date itinerary out for me and would ask what time Isabella should be home. If curfew was 10:30, he'd pull his mom's car out front of our building with fifteen minutes to spare. From my vantage point behind the living room curtains, I could see that there were no steamed windows and Jake always walked Isabella up to the door. I kept a watchful eye but they rarely showed much affection. Even the security cameras at work didn't catch them in a kiss when Emmett and I were out of the room. Yes, we stalked them that way. Sue me.

I wasn't stupid and didn't trust Jake one little bit. He was kissing my ass, big time, but I let him; enjoyed it even. I certainly didn't want him to get too comfortable.

Two and a half months into their relationship Isabella reassured me they were still on second base. Though skeptical, I was happy, and relieved that my daughter was taking it slow, heeding my advice. I did sometimes wonder if Jake was maybe playing for the same team. Whatever. I was okay with either, actually.

By month five Jake loosened up a bit. He didn't give me the play-by-play of where they were going for their dates and, unfortunately, they steamed up the windows of the car before coming inside. Once again, Isabella told me they were still on base, though she neglected to tell me which one. Several times I reminded her if there was anything she wanted to talk to me about, my door was always open or if she felt more comfortable talking to Rosalie, that was fine as well. She'd mumble 'thanks but no thanks' and scurry off to her room before I could pry further.

I realized things were serious when I found out they were applying to the same colleges, both in and out of state. On the advice of my mom, I said nothing to Isabella about my disapproval of this. (And my reasoning behind this was that they were too young to be tied down to each other - her first real relationship.) The last thing I wanted to do was give my daughter a reason to be mad at me so she'd go running to him.

Turns out she didn't need a reason.

One Sunday afternoon, I came home from a food and drink conference in Seattle. Emmett and I stayed over night so we could catch a Mariners game the next day. And, yes, in hindsight leaving my almost 17 year old daughter home alone for the weekend was a terrible idea but I'd had a very serious talk with her before I left.

"Under no circumstances is Jake to come over. Do you understand?" I narrowed my eyes and made myself look as intimidating and bad-ass as possible. Isabella blushed, knowing exactly what I was alluding to.

"Dad!"

"Don't 'Dad!' me. He's not to come over. Not to do homework or to watch a movie. If I'm not here, he's not here. No way. No how. Period. End of discussion. Capisce?"

"Capisce."

Anyway, I got home from Seattle and gave Isabella a hug before I went to take a leak. And there it was….Capisce my ass!

"Isabella! Is-A-Bella! Come here!"

At the sound of me screeching like a tween at a Taylor Swift concert, she came running.

"Dad! Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. Do I look okay? Do I sound okay?" Because I was pretty sure I wasn't fucking okay!

"You look a little pale."

No shit I was pale. The blood had drained from my entire body.

"Can you tell me what's wrong here?"

Isabella looked around the bathroom. "The towel's crooked?"

"Try again."

"Uh," she looked around taking note of anything that may be out of place. "I have no idea."

"The toilet seat." I pointed. "It's up."

My daughter knitted her brows together in confusion. I repeated myself because wasn't it obvious what the freaking issue was?

"The. Toilet. Seat. Is. Up. UP!"

"And this is a problem because…?"

"Because?" My voice was five octaves too high. I cleared my throat and attempted to calm myself down. "Because, _honey,_ I've been away and you were home, alone. I THOUGHT! And if I'm assuming correctly you no longer stand up to pee so this means you, young lady, had a BOY over."

The worst part of my revelation was the fact Isabella didn't deny it. She didn't even try. Fuck!

"Dad, we should talk."

 _What_? _Nooooooooooo_!

I was okay with me initiating _the talk,_ but Isabella starting it? Fuck. This wasn't good. At all. And even though I knew this day would come, my legs felt like pipe cleaners - all bendy and weak as I followed her to the living room. I sank in the recliner, needing the support of my faithful friend. Isabella sat on the couch, back straight, hands in her lap. She looked different. Why hadn't I noticed before now? My baby had turned into a woman overnight. Like, literally overnight. Fuck.

"So, um, yeah. Jake... stayed over and I… we…we..." She stalled as her face took on a bright pink hue.

"Here?" I croaked. "You...he...here? In _my_ house?"

 _I was going to kill him._

"Ahem, _our_ house."

I levelled her a look as if to say 'really?' I mean, fucking really? Isabella countered my look and I shot her down.

"I distinctly remember saying he was not allowed over. At all. I'm pretty fucking sure I said that."

"Would you rather we did it in the back of his mom's car in a dark alley?"

Damn it. I didn't know how to answer her. A part of me wanted to yell 'hell yes!' That's where kids her age were supposed to have sex. Maneuvering yourself like Gumby around a stick shift is a right of passage.

And the other part of me was glad it was probably a less embarrassing and awkward first time than mine had been. But in my house? Fuck. I wasn't sure if I needed bleach more for my house or my brain. Probably both.

I took a deep breath.

"Were you, I mean did you use...?"

God, I still wasn't mature enough to come right out and ask if they used a condom (or worse, plural) because then it was a sure thing. Like my daughter was. Shit.

Isabella nodded.

"Good." I paused. As big a deal with was for me, this was an even bigger deal for her. I switched off over-protective dad, for a moment. "Are you okay? Not just physically, but emotionally, you're alright?"

"I'm fine." Her lips curved into her happy smile - the one which made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Damn it, how could I be mad at that? Except I was, and she was going to be pissed about the punishment I was dreaming up.

"Okay."

"Okay."

We sat there in silence. Was there something else I was supposed to say or do?

 _Congratulations._

 _Please, wash your own sheets._

 _Great, now you can use up the box of condoms in my room before they expire._

Thankfully Isabella spoke releasing me of the ridiculous internal dialogue.

"Jake doesn't think you like him very much."

I snorted. "I like him a lot less now."

"Dad. You told me yourself Jake reminded you of yourself when you were young."

"I meant in regards to the handsome, popular, captain of the football team sort of way. Besides, younger me was an idiot. Hello? I knocked up your mother when I was his age. And so help me if he does that with you…" My fist punched into the palm of my hand as Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Jake's smart, hard-working, and driven. He got me an A in biology, remember?"

"I don't even want to know about the _tutoring_ you needed to get that." She glared at me when I used air quotes for 'tutoring'.

"He's a good guy and you know it. You just won't admit it."

I grumbled, unwilling to concede.

"So, how was Seattle?"

I shook my head at her attempt to change the subject. "Nice try, young lady. You're not to see Jake outside of school for the next two weeks. You'll come right home after school, or to the cafe on the afternoons I'm there late."

My daughter was wise enough not to roll her eyes but she did protest. "You're grounding me for having—"

I stopped her before she could say _that_ word. "No, I'm grounding you for disobeying me. There are consequences for that."

"Fine." Which meant it really wasn't but I didn't care. "He's supposed to come by later, though. He has to pick up his biology notes. Can I tell him then?"

"As long as it's brief."

She excused herself then and I grabbed myself a beer. I fucking needed one.

I was glad Isabella felt comfortable enough to talk to me about her relationship with Jake although I didn't like knowing the deed was done under my roof. Couldn't she have left that small detail out? Every time I walked past her room I had this visual...yuck.

Anyway, though I was pissed about her disobeying me, I wasn't mad at her for having sex. If my daughter wanted to have sex, there was little I could do to stop her. I could put up as many barriers as I liked - and trust me, I would've put up barbed wire if I could - but she would've found a way around it.

I did, however, have an ever-growing hatred for Jake. To know he had the same lascivious thoughts about _my daughter_ that I once had about girls at their age? Jesus, I wanted to kill him.

Rationally, I knew sex was the next step in their relationship but the knowledge that he did _that_ with _my_ baby girl triggered something so primal and visceral within me. The need to protect my daughter is greater than anything I've felt in my life. It isn't a force that has to be ignited; it's always there, like cement, daring anyone to move it.

And knowing Isabella cared enough about Jake to want to be intimate with him scared the shit out of me. Opening her heart to him left her vulnerable and susceptible to heartache. Though I'd never been in love with Ally, the pain I'd felt when she left us was so great, almost insurmountable. I couldn't imagine how much worse it would have been if my heart were tangled up in the emotions as well.

For that reason, I needed to have a little chat with my friend Jake. But I wasn't going to be an asshole about it like Ally's father had been to me. I was better than that; better than him. I would simply explain in a calm, rational way that the girl's heart he held in his hands was fragile and to take special care of it.

Later that afternoon when the opportunity came for me to have a word with him, Papa Bear came out to play. Face to face with the boy who filched my daughter's virginity, I fully understood Mr. Brandon's animosity toward me, the punk ass kid who fucked his precious baby girl.

"Hey, Jake, come in." I greeted him politely with my big, fat, I-might-seriously-hurt-you smile.

Jake hesitated in the doorway, poking his (fat) head nervously around me.

"Uh, is Isabella here? I have to pick up some notes." His voice quivered and I all but chuckled.

"She's in the shower but come in, have a seat." Jake frantically shook his head.

"It's okay. I'm sure you're busy and I don't mind waiting in the car for her."

"Don't be ridiculous. It'll give us a chance to talk. Man to..." I gave him the once over. "You." I clasped his shoulder with an inescapable vice grip and steered him in.  
 _  
_We sat at the kitchen table, Jake opposite me, squirming in his seat. He alternated between wiping his hands on his jeans and dragging them through his hair.

I channelled Ally's dad - squared my shoulders, puffed out my chest, and folded my arms in front of me. I was in daddy beast mode.

And then I did nothing but glare at Jacob Fucking Black.

For two full minutes.

When I thought he might piss himself, I spoke. Only because I wasn't in the mood to clean up human waste, not because I was tired of seeing him squirm.

"I know what you did with my daughter." It wasn't the speech I rehearsed but at least I spoke calmly and concisely. I cocked my eyebrow as I glowered at him.

"If you hurt her, I. Will. Hurt. _You_. And Emmett, all six foot four, two hundred and thirty odd pounds of him, will anxiously wait for his turn after me. He's not afraid to go back to prison." Yeah, the last statement was bullshit but it was the punchline I needed.

Jake gulped. Precisely the response I was looking for.

"Y-yes, sir," he stammered.

I nodded curtly and stood up, essentially dismissing him.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"What?" I turned to face him.

"I want you to know..."

Isabella appeared then, interrupting whatever he was going to say. Wearing sweatpants and a ratty tee shirt, her hair was pulled back in a messy, wet ponytail, skin dewy and free of makeup. Jake's face lit up despite the fact that only moments before he'd been walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

"Hey," Isabella said, a smile lighting up her face. "I thought I heard your voice." She stepped forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. His hand slid around her waist as she leaned into him.

"You look beautiful," Jake quietly mustered.

Isabella waved off his compliment. "Everything okay here?" She raised her eyebrows and suspicions at me but Jake answered before I could.

"Yep, all good."

Isabella took his hand, fingers intertwined, and they went to the living room. Blindly, I reached for the arm of the chair needing something to sit down on before my legs gave out.

I knew - from the look on his face, from the way he uttered 'you look beautiful' - Jake was in love with Isabella. And knowing my daughter the way I did, watching how effortlessly she glided to his side, held his hand, kissed his cheek, I could tell she was madly in love with him.

And it took my breath away. For a really long time it had been just the two of us - Isabella and me. Watching them, I realized it was official. I wasn't my daughter's number one anymore. Jake didn't have just Isabella's heart in his hands, he had mine as well.

* * *

 _Thanks to Capricorn75 (Alanna) for your beta skills. I tinker long after she's done so the mistakes are mine (sorry)  
_

Thank you all for reading and I look forward to your reviews (unless you're scolding me for 16 year olds having sex lol)


	13. Chapter 12

That night, I couldn't sleep. My brain wouldn't stop thinking about Isabella; how her relationship was so much more complicated than I ever dreamed. It was naive of me to downplay the importance of her relationship with Jake. Knowing my daughter was in love scared the hell out of me.

I always did my best as a dad. Tried to prepare Isabella for all of the ups, downs, and curveballs life throws at you. I'd talked to her about how growing up without a mom would sometimes make her feel different. That when all the other kids in her class were making Mother's Day cards, she shouldn't think twice about making one for her Gramma instead. When Isabella bought her first bra, I once again explained her changing body wasn't anything to be ashamed of, nor was it something to flaunt. We'd even suffered through that horrible rendition of the birds and the bees talk. But in the end, I felt I had failed my daughter because I'd never talked to her about how much it hurts when someone takes liberties with your heart. Something I knew firsthand.

The lack of sleep made my five am opening shift at the cafe all the more painful. Usually I was two cups of coffee in by the time Emmett arrived at ten. That morning my first cup went untouched, the cream forming a layer of curdled scum on top. Scum like Jacob Black.

Emmett's arm draped across my shoulders as I stood dazed behind the counter. I hadn't even heard him approach.

"You okay?"

"Huh?" I shook my cloudy head.

He gestured to my cold drink. "Something's up."

"Yeah, something's definitely up. Isabella and Jake...they're affirmative."

Emmett quirked an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes.

"They took advantage of the empty house this weekend."

"Oh." Em frowned, mirroring my facial expression. "Seth, can you handle this? Edward and I need to have a quick meeting."

Seth waved us off. "No problem, Boss. I've got this."

"You had to expect this, Bro. They're young. They've been seeing each other for a while. I'm guessing there's something else going on here - with you, I mean." Emmett said once we were alone in the back room. After years as friends, he knew me well.

"It wasn't just sex, Em. They're in love. I could see it in his eyes; the way she moves around him. Sex, the physical act, I could deal with. But this is, fuck." My dragged my fingers through my hair as I sat down. "This is so much more than that. Her heart and emotions are all tangled up with him now. I don't like it."

"And you're worried Isabella's going to get hurt." He scratched his chin and I nodded.

"Yeah. It's called ' _fall_ in love.' Emmett, I don't want her to fall."

"Jake's not Ally and Isabella's not you."

"But she is. She's an integral part of me. When she was seven and broke her arm falling off her bike, I felt her pain. The feeling resonates within me. She and I, we're connected. She's my everything, Emmett. I don't know what I'll do if he fucking breaks her heart."

"We'll break his face." His fist punched into his palm then his face softened. "And together we'll help Isabella pick up the pieces. She'll carry on and she'll be okay. You know she will. There's also a possibility she doesn't get hurt."

"Yeah right. She's young. I doubt she's found her happily ever after already."

"You never know. And maybe she breaks up with him one day." See, now Emmett was talking. "But we don't know. This isn't in our hands."

I groaned. "That's the worst part for me. Since Ally left I've been in control of every aspect of her life. Letting go and risk her getting hurt..." I shook my head. "I don't know if I can."

"You can, and you will. Life's about making mistakes and getting hurt along the way. When she was learning to walk you didn't stick her in bubble wrap, did you? Of course not. You let her stumble and fall. And through the bumps and bruises she learned to run."

"But if I see her running with scissors, shouldn't I do something to stop her?" My eyes met Emmett's and he looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I think." He paused, his index finger tapping his lips. "If you protect children from making mistakes or always rescue them from consequences, you're just delaying them from learning the lessons they need to learn.'"

His words sunk in and I knew he was right. Isabella had her own life to live; I needed to let her do so. I'd done my best to give my daughter the tools she needed to live her life and a big part of that was learning to love, and be loved. Letting go, just a little, wasn't severing ties. If ever she were drowning I'd be there to breath life back into her. But if Jacob Black, or any man for that matter, hurt _my_ daughter there would be hell to pay.

"Thanks. Where the hell did you read that anyway?" I asked as we headed back out front to the counter. "It's pretty deep, man."

"Tumblr." Emmett grinned his hand smacking me on the back. "Isabella _is_ a part of you, Edward. The best part. She's resilient and strong. She'll be okay, whatever happens with Jake."

I hoped he was right.

"And don't be an ass to the guy, okay?"

"I, uh,...I kind of told him I'd kill him if he hurt her."

Em shook his head in disapproval, succeeding in making me feel guilty. "Dude."

"Sorry. I'm new at this my-daughter-has-a-boyfriend thing, okay?"

"Just try not to be a dick all the time. He's just a kid." 

I told him I'd do my best to be semi-nice, but no promises.

...

A few weeks later Isabella came home from school, slamming the front door so hard the pictures rattled on the wall.

"Isabella? You okay?" I stopped shucking corn.

"Aaarrrrggg!" She growled as she stormed into the living room, shredding her jacket and ditching her backpack. "Jake's a jerk."

I wanted to agree, I did, but I had learned not to give my opinion to a woman unless it is specifically requested of me.

"Okay, what's going on?" I hung up her coat and bag then followed her.

Too angry to sit down, Isabella stomped around the room. She tugged out her hair elastic and scratched her fingers through her hair leaving it looking as crazed as she did.

"He's a jealous, obnoxious idiot."

 _Bite your tongue, Edward.  
_  
"So, there's this new guy at school - Mike Newton. He's super sweet and..."

I'm a guy; I already knew where this was going but I let her prattle on. And on. And on. I sat down as the story unfolded, much the same as I knew it would.

"Then a couple days ago Mike offered to carry my backpack home and Jake got all huffy over it. I mean, _he's_ never offered to carry it home but as soon as someone else does…" She paused to growl and roll her eyes. "Jake grabbed my backpack away from Mike and then grumbled all the way home. What the heck? I didn't ask him to carry it."

Isabella sat down and continued her rant. "Anyway, today Jake found out Mike sort of kissed me—"

"What? Wait a sec, how do you 'sort of' kiss someone? Did he or didn't he?"

"He did but—"

"Sweetheart, there is no but."

Isabella waved me off. "It was a misunderstanding."

I disagreed with a shake of my head. Guys put a lot of thought before we kiss someone. We're over-thinkers; it's in our chromosomes. _Does my breath smell okay? How much tongue should I use? How hard or how soft? Eyes: open or closed? Where should my hands be? When should I stop?_ There's a never ending list of questions we go through, from when we first lean in to when we pull away.

Misunderstanding, my ass.

"What did Jake do?"

"He decked him." Isabella clenched her jaw and I could see the rage building again. I scratched my head.

"I don't get it - why are you angry? Jake defends your honor and you're mad at _him_? Shouldn't you be pissed at that Newton kid? He's the one who kissed you - without your permission, I might add. I'm not exactly Jake's biggest fan but kudos to him, honey."

"Gah! You, too? Can't you see Jake was the bigger ass here?"

"Mike kissed you!" I stared at her incredulously as she continued to protest.

"It wasn't a big deal."

"Ah, but it is. It's a far bigger deal than I think you understand."

"Enlighten me, please." An exacerbated Isabella flopped down on the couch.

My index finger tapped against my lips as I tried to find the right words. "It's like this, you're Jake's girl - exclusively his. If another guy even flirts with you, he's going to be pissed. So for this guy to kiss you? Hell no. Guys get jealous and possessive about stuff like that."

Arms folded across her chest, Isabella lashed out. "I'm not his property! He doesn't own me."

"No, he doesn't. And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say he did. I was only trying to explain his rationale. Mike crossed the line and Jake was letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that what he did was unacceptable."

"Mike crossed the line? Mike? Jake punched him!"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sorry, I'm with Jake on this one."

"Whatever. Jake's an idiot. He's been suspended for it, too. Still on his side? I'm dating a felon, how 'bout that? The principal said he'd only suspend him for 2 days if he apologized but he's refusing so he's out for the whole week. Idiot." Isabella stormed off to her room and cranked up the tunes.

If nothing else, Jake had integrity and even though I didn't especially like the guy, I had to admire that about him.

Jake knocked on our front door an hour later looking very morose.

"Hey, Mr. Cullen. Is Isabella here?"

"She is. She told me what happened."

Jake dropped his head down and mumbled something about being hot-headed.

"If I were in your position I would've done the same."

I stuck out my hand. He looked at in shock, then took it, shaking firmly. It was a truce between us, albeit temporary.

"She's in her room. Good luck." I gestured down the hall. "Keep the door open," I warned.

They hashed it out for a couple hours. I could hear Isabella's high pitched, angry voice, and Jake's low rumble in reply. Eventually things quieted down at which time I took myself out to the local watering hole for a beer because I was pretty sure they were making up. YUCK. I left the television on so they'd think I was still home - no need in having them get too comfortable.

* * *

 _Thank you all for your continued love and support. I appreciate all your reviews._

 _Alanna: you're a sweetheart. Love you._


	14. Chapter 13

March 15th is one of those days that will be forever etched in my memory. I was at work. Rain battered the window panes and torrents swept the sidewalks clean. Customers lingered with their mochas and cappuccinos longer than normal to avoid the monsoon that awaited them beyond the shelter of our doors. Isabella and Jake arrived after school. In the doorway, Jake stomped his feet and shook himself off like a wet dog. My daughter peeled off her hood, emerging with a huge grin plastered on her face, emitting happiness like the sun radiates warmth.

"Dad!" Isabella ran over to me. I smiled. For a moment I was back in Forks, my five-year-old little girl skipping toward me, pigtails flying.

"Dad, guess what came in the mail today!" Isabella sing-songed as she bounced up and down on her toes. I wiped my hands, suddenly slick with perspiration, on the apron tied low around my hips. Even with the envelope being waved frantically, I spied the cardinal and gold crest of the University of Southern California on the top left. My heart sank.

"USC? Is this Jake's?" I took the envelope from her, fingers tracing over the typewritten name. _Miss Isabella Cullen._ Every letter jabbed into the fleshy part of my fingertip; into my heart.

"You...you were accepted to USC?"

"I know! Isn't it great?" Isabella was oblivious to the jumble of emotions within me.

"Why do you want to go to a college a thousand miles away from home?"

 _A thousand miles away from me._

"Dad," her voice was apologetic, her hand on my arm. "It's a great school. You know that."

Jake fell back, giving my daughter and me a moment to talk.

"Sweetheart, you don't need to follow a dream I once chased."

"That's not…." I cut her a glance and she relented. She reached for my hand, gave it a squeeze. "You've given up so much for me. I want this for you as much as I want it for me."

My heart melted. I looked at her, searching her eyes for that fleck which would tell me if she was lying or not. There was no hint of doubt, it simply wasn't there. Instead she was giddy with anticipation, the very sentiment I once felt - could still feel if I let myself go there.

It looked like Isabella would indeed follow the dream I'd once chased. I was happy for her but the feeling in my stomach was far from the elation I'd felt when the opportunity was mine. Another milestone - not only would my baby be going to college out of state, but also to the school of my dreams. I forced a smile.

"Well, you'd better stock up on sunblock - USC's only a half hour drive from Venice Beach." I opened my arms and folded her into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you." I held her tight, too tight; my nose tickled by her hair. I breathed in her scent, knowing this was going to be one of those moments I'd always remember. I closed my eyes, soaked it in and then, with great reluctance, released her from the embrace.

"Thank you! Oh my gosh. California here I come! Can you believe it?" She gave a little squeal.

...

As much as I wanted my daughter to have the experience I never got, I also didn't want her to leave. There. I admitted it. I didn't want to be alone.

When I first moved to Edmonds, Isabella was all I had. Then Emmett and Rosalie were introduced to my life. When they hooked up and then got married, I distanced myself from them until the PDA wore off a bit - nothing like feeling like a third wheel - but at least I still had my daughter for company. And then Jake came on scene, leaving me in Isabella's wake. For the first time in a long time, I was lonely. When she went away to college it would be even more so.

Thankfully my good friends invited me to hang out with them so my life wasn't completely boring.

"Thanks for having me over, guys; I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," Rosalie reassured me.

"It's weird, you know? My life's been wrapped around Isabella for so long and now she's disentangled herself from me. I'm not even sure how to feel or what to do with myself."

"You should feel liberated. What? I'm serious." Emmett went on to explain after I gave him a questioning look. "You can be yourself again. Date, have a girlfriend; get laid, dude!"

My cheeks felt warm and I glanced at Rosalie, who smirked and shrugged her shoulders - apparently she agreed.

"He's right, you know. When was the last time you went on a date?" I started to reply but her eyebrow quirked. "A real one - not with Isabella, and a football game with Emmett doesn't count either." I closed my mouth.

"Forget dating, when was the last time you...?" His eyebrows wag suggestively.

 _Fucker, Emmett._ He knew damn well it was probably circa 2005. Okay, not _that_ far back but pretty damn close. It's really depressing when your kid has more sexy times than you do. I chose to ignore him.

"Besides the fact I wouldn't even know _where_ to meet a girl, I don't know _how_ to date. All I know is how to be a dad. That's who I am now. Seventeen years in the making.

"Before you were a dad, you were a man," Emmett reminded me but I shook my head.

"No, before I was a dad I was a kid. Ally and I didn't date. We fucked at a party. We never had a proper courtship or relationship."

"You've dated before; had girlfriends." I wasn't sure if Rosalie was making a statement or asking a question.

"Well, yeah, but it was a looong time ago. Shit, Isabella was four when Tori and I were together."

Rosalie smiled. "We once had a pretty nice date. You made me dinner, we had some wine..." Her voice tailed off because we all knew how that date ended. Well almost ended.

"Is that the night you almost got with my wife?" Emmett snort-laughed.

"I like to refer to it as the night prior to _you_ getting with _my_ babysitter." I flipped him the bird.

"Anyway," Rose redirected, "Dating hasn't changed much. You find a girl interesting or pretty or nice and you ask her out. Buy her dinner, maybe end the night with a kiss, whatever."

She made it sound easy enough.

Except it wasn't.

I Googled the top places to meet women in the Pacific Northwest. Number one was the grocery store. Why not, I thought to myself. It worked with Tori, only this time around I didn't have a cute kid as an icebreaker. Fuck it. I was a 35 year old man, I could turn on the charm and get a girl all by myself. I hoped.

I lucked out because the girl in line behind me at Fred Meyer wasn't ugly. I made casual conversation about the avocados she placed on the conveyor belt, asking what her plans were with them. What? I like avocados and apparently she did too, which meant we already had something in common. Except she looked at me as though I were a psychopath and ignored me completely. I didn't even get her name.

Undeterred, I hit up Albertsons the same night. Instead of asking about fruit like a dumb ass, I jerked my chin at the single serving Lean Cuisine.

"You know, I could make you a much nicer dinner than that. I mean, if you're interested sometime." I gave myself props because personally I thought it was a rather ingenious pick-up line. Her boyfriend/husband definitely significant other didn't find it so great. He sidled up, wrapped his arm protectively around her waist and glared at me until I hauled ass out of there.

Google suggested the gym as another place to meet women. I'm not a gym-type guy. I much prefer me, a pair of Nikes, and the open road, but I joined a spin class at the community center where the majority of the participants were women (AKA: lots of options.) There, I met Sue. She was attractive, even with sweat trickling down her back. I asked if she'd be interested in going for a ride some time and she was enthusiastic.

Early one Saturday morning we loaded up our mountain bikes (I rented mine the day before) and took off for what I thought would be, a nice, relaxing afternoon of cycling. It was grueling; I thought I might die. For real. Sue didn't break a sweat. I couldn't look like a wuss so I endured the pain and had to avoid sitting on my bruised rear end for a week after. I never returned her calls.

I met Gianna at Rory's bar and grill. She approached me, asking if I wanted to play pool. I accepted on the condition I was allowed to buy her a drink. I ended up buying her two and she snookered my ass. When the live band started up it was too noisy to talk so I invited her back to my place, knowing Isabella still had two hours til curfew. Gianna was game so I cleared our tab.

"I want to be honest with you," I confessed as we shrugged into our jackets.

Gianna groaned. "You're not a he-she are you?"

I laughed. "Uh no. I have a kid, though. I haven't exactly dated for a while."

 _Or a decade or so._

"You're doing just fine, Edward." She slipped her hand through the crook of my arm as we walked to our cars. Driving home, I felt more confidence than I had in awhile.

"Nice place," she complimented when we got to my apartment. "Show me around?"

Now, I know I'd been out of the dating scene for a while but I didn't read any sexual undertones in her comments at all so I showed her my humble abode, all 1100 square feet.

My bedroom door was barely ajar when Gianna started palming my junk then dropped to her knees, fingers making quick work of my zipper.

"Whoa!" I grabbed her hands to still them, my eyes bugging out of their sockets.

"Oh sorry... I assumed you'd want a blow job but we can get right down to it, that's fine." Gianna pulled a condom packet from who-the-fuck-knows-where, handed it to me then stripped out of her jeans before peeling off her shirt. Her bra and panties were white and lacey. Damn. I was completely tongue tied as she stood in front of me practically naked.

Light bulb.

Wait a second. She was very businesslike, condom at the ready, and naked in 30 seconds flat. I scratched my head.

"Are you…? Is this...I mean, I think there's been a mistake." I finally managed to stutter. "I'm not looking to pay for sex."

Her hand connected with my cheek - sharp and fast. Gianna wasn't a prostitute as I'd wrongly assumed. She was, however, extremely pissed off.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She reached for her shirt, yanking it over her head. "Just because a girl thinks you're hot and wants to have sex with you doesn't make her a whore. You've obviously been out of the game for way too long." She turned on her heels and headed for the front door.

"Wait, Gianna!" I chased after her.

"What?" Her eyes were narrowed, hands on her hips.

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

She nodded. "Me too."

I hemmed and hawed for a second. "But you, uh, think I'm hot?"

"Oh my God." She threw her hands up and stormed out to her car. I had a cold shower and berated myself for being a fucking idiot.

Emmett and Rosalie were sympathetic when I told them my dating disaster stories. Well, Rose was; Emmett laughed at me. Fucker. Rosalie reassured me that dating was harder than it had been 20 years prior. Girls didn't need anyone to buy them drinks - they bought their own. They didn't wait for a guy to make a move - they were assertive (especially so in Gianna's case.) Sex was as casual as mine and Ally's had been and it wasn't frowned upon by society.

Emmett told me I was trying too hard, advising that I shouldn't ever have to use a pick-up line or pretend to be something I wasn't (like a fan of mountain biking). It was his idea to sign up for _meet_me dot com_ where there wasn't any pressure to be anything other than literate, as most of the initial conversations were via email or text message. Rosalie wrote my bio on Sunday night and by Monday morning my inbox was flooded. I had no idea there were so many women who were desperate. I mean, interested in dating. And since I was in the same boat, I guess I was also that desperate.

Anyone who over-inflated themselves or used superfluous words, I deleted. The women who were blatant cougars, I blocked. There was one, though, who caught my eye. Carmen seemed to be a perfect match, on paper anyway. Her reply to my bio was simple.

' _Hey,'_ she wrote. ' _You sound like the type of guy I'm hoping to meet. I'm 33, also a single parent, mom to an 8 year old boy and recently divorced. I'm an art instructor at Charter College. My girlfriend coerced me into signing up for this website; I'm not even sure I'm looking for a romantic relationship but certainly a friendship would be nice. Email back if you're interested. No pressure."_

And that was exactly what I was looking for - friendship yes, relationship possibly, no pressure definitely. Carmen and I 'talked' via text messages for a week before setting a date for a drink.

Meeting my blind date was extremely nerve racking. I couldn't care less if she was 120 or 180 pounds, if she was blonde with blue eyes or brunette with green eyes. My only hope was that she was as true in person as she appeared in her emails.

Thank God she was.

Carmen was also really attractive. Five foot eight, long blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail with gorgeous hazel eyes. She was curvy in all the right places.

Upon first meeting I extended my hand and she leaned in for a hug. We both laughed it off and admitted how nervous we were. It was probably the best thing to happen because we got it out in the open right at the starting gate.

We met at seven pm and I was walking her to her car at eleven. Time flew by with no awkward lulls in the conversation.

We talked about Ally, albeit briefly, and about her ex and failed marriage. When she spoke of Aaron, her son, she became so animated; hands waving and a smile plastered on her face. She was quick to apologize for monopolizing the conversation about him and I laughed, reassuring her I'd talk her ear off about Isabella- and I did.

Carmen and I, we just...clicked. We liked the same food, drinks, preferred football to baseball, were passionate about our line of work, and fiercely protective of our kids. I would've loved to chat longer but she needed to get home for the sitter so we hugged goodbye and called it a night.

On the drive back home I was giddy. I wanted to call Carmen immediately but showed some restraint, calling Emmett to gush instead. In my excitement, I paid no attention to the late hour and completely forgot he was opening the cafe the next morning. He groggily chuckled at my enthusiasm then called me an asshole for waking him up.

As I walked in the front door, my phone rang. I smiled when I recognized Carmen's number.

"Carmen, hi!" I said it a little more enthusiastically than I'd planned.

"Sorry, I hope it's okay to call you this late."

"Absolutely. I'm glad you did. I had a great time tonight." I sprawled out on the couch, phone pressed to my ear.

"Me too. I hope we can do it again sometime."

I should have played it cool but couldn't.

"What about tomorrow night?" I glanced at the time. "I mean tonight."

Carmen laughed. "I'd like that."

We set up a time for the following evening and then talked for another hour. Only when I could hear her yawning through the wire did we end the call. I could hardly wait for the next time I'd see her.

* * *

 _Isabella's off to college and Edward is starting to date...some of my favorite chapters are coming up. I hope you're all still enjoying the story. Thank you for your lovely reviews._

Alanna: thank you for being you xo


	15. Chapter 14

I was open with Isabella about my dating Carmen— to an extent. She knew I kissed her on our second date, parked outside her house. I neglected to inform her the kiss led to an intense make out session, which included steamed windows, swollen lips, messy hair, and untucked shirts. She probably wanted to know those details as much as I wanted to know them about her and Jake.

Isabella admitted it was weird to see me dating but I reassured my daughter she was, and always would be, my number one girl. I wasn't looking for a wife (although I wasn't opposed to it) and I certainly wasn't looking for a stepmom for her. All I wanted was to build a friendship with someone who could understand the trials of being a 30-something, single parent. I could tell Isabella was relieved to know there wasn't anything to get worked up over.

Speaking of worked up….

Carmen and I had some serious pent-up sexual frustration. For me at least, it was years in the making. The night of our first make out session, she invited me inside. I regretfully and politely declined. She agreed, admitting she didn't think she was ready for the next step either. We decided we needed to rein it in a bit. Easier said than done.

The following night, while Isabella was out with Jake, Carmen and I got a little...amorous. We avoided the bedroom like the plague, knowing things were likely to spiral out of control in there. So we made out in the living room. You'd think I would have learned my lesson all those years ago with Tori….

We were horizontal on the couch when Isabelle and Jake came home, unbeknownst to us. At the sound of my daughter gagging and Jake's guffaw I froze, then hopped off Carmen who sat up while straightening her shirt and smoothing down her hair. I tried- unsuccessfully- to inconspicuously hide the bulge in my pants while looking innocent and casual. Thank God we were fully dressed.

"Isabella, hi. Jake." I gave a curt nod in his direction.

Being caught dry humping like a sex-crazed teenager by my sex-crazed teenager and her tsk-ing boyfriend was mortifying. Isabella's face was equally as red as mine. Carmen left abruptly, and Jake soon followed her lead. My daughter and I didn't speak of the incident again. I was an adult doing an adult activity, and didn't think I should have to explain myself to Isabella. Besides, I needed a cold shower in a major way and when I came out, Isabella was already in bed.

Two dates later, however, Carmen and I were at third base (and no, I didn't need to the internet to tell me what or where it was.) So much for reining it in.

Not wanting to get caught again, we took it to my bedroom and locked the door. Practically naked and with the house to ourselves, there was nothing and no one to stop us.

"I'm okay if you want to do this," Carmen panted into my ear.

I cocked her an eyebrow because I sure as fuck was fine with that. "Really? We didn't want to rush anything."

She gestured between her nude body, and me in only my boxers. "I think we're pretty much there, don't you?"

I kissed her then, hard and urgent. Once the idea of going all the way was out there, I wasn't going to let anything stop us.

Except for one, small detail. I couldn't find a condom for the life of me. I was certain I had a close-to-expiring box in my bathroom but it wasn't anywhere to be found. I even rummaged through Isabella's room - scared for what I might find but desperate enough not to care. Nada.

We both 'finished' that night, just not in the way we had hoped.

The following day, while grocery shopping, I decided I'd better stock up. Even at 35-years old, buying condoms made me slink around the aisle like I was on a secret 007 mission - my ball cap pulled low to conceal my identity.

Purchasing condoms was a daunting task. Should I get ribbed for her pleasure, or _Fire and Ice_ for mine? Let's be honest- it was already guaranteed to be _my_ pleasure so I chose some geared for her, in case I was... a little out of practice.

I was on my way to the checkout when I turned back, deciding to pick up a second box. You never know, it doesn't hurt to be prepared. I quite literally bumped into another shopper. I mumbled my apologies all while avoiding eye contact and staring at the floor. Except I recognized those god-awful, size fourteen, neon orange sneakers.

Jake.

"Oh, hey, Mr. C." He toyed with the box in his hands. I couldn't help but to notice he chose _Fire and Ice_ for _his_ pleasure. Of course he did, _selfish little fucker_. I glared at him.

"How's Carmen?" His eyebrows flicked suggestively. I wanted to suffocate him with a condom. I know we had an understanding after his spat with Isabella, but it extended to that one night only. Besides, all bets were off in the condom aisle.

I took a step closer, snarling at him through my scowl. "I'm not interested in discussing my personal life with you and I certainly do not want to know about yours, especially since it involves _my_ daughter."

"Heh heh," Jake chucked nervously. I wanted to punch his face. "At least you caught me buying condoms and not those," he gestured to the pregnancy tests nearby. "Wouldn't the alternative be far worse?"

I stroked my chin thoughtfully. "I don't know. See, in my head, if the alternative were the case and you made me a grandpa, you'd be a dead man and I'd probably be okay with that." I smirked. Jake swallowed hard, beads of sweat on his forehead.

"I should go."

He buggered off before I could pass him the box of extra small variety condoms.

 _Fucker._

The next weekend, when Aaron was at his dad's, Carmen and I took our relationship to the next level. It was... _wow_. Sublime comes to mind. I really don't have any other word for it. It had been a long time since I'd made love. I hadn't been completely celibate over the years, but wouldn't consider any of the handful of women I'd been with to be anything special.

My nerves threatened to take over, but once we were in her bed I went with what I knew. And apparently I still knew what I was doing- multiple times, thank you very much!

 _#stillgotit_

Unfortunately, my stamina wasn't what it used to be. The double-header knocked me out cold.

I awoke with a start, legs tangled in the sheets with Carmen's. Fumbling in the dark, I located the clock radio, squinting in disbelief at the neon green digits. Fuck! It was 1:30. In the fucking morning. I shot up out of bed, ripping the covers off, waking my bedmate in the process. I yanked on my khakis while Carmen located my shirt and cell phone.

"It looks like Isabella called. A few times."

"Fuck!" I growled as I tugged my undershirt over my head and fought with the buttons on my dress shirt. I hopped around on one foot as I tried to put my shoe on while simultaneously calling Isabella back and rushing downstairs.

"Dad! Oh my God, I've been so worried. Are you okay?" Her voice was frantic; I felt awful.

"I'm so sorry!" I kissed Carmen and whispered goodbye. "I totally lost track of time."

"You're with Carmen, aren't you?" I couldn't tell from her tone if she was pissed off or not.

"Not exactly." It wasn't a lie. I was technically outside her house, walking toward my car.

My daughter's not stupid.

"Nice try."

"Okay, I _was_ with Carmen but then...I had car trouble and…and I couldn't find my phone...yeah. So, I'm on my way now; see you in twenty." I tripped over my own words like a blithering idiot.

Isabella chuckled. "Drive safe."

When I got home, my daughter was waiting up. She stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed over her chest, clad in pajamas, and her hair in a messy twisty-bun thing on the top of her head. She looked more the part of a parent than I did in my disheveled state. Isabella made a point of looking at her watch, succeeding in making me feel extremely guilty, even more so when she 'tsk tsked ' me. The tables were turned.

"I'm so sorry. I should set a better example."

"Maybe you'll cut me some slack when I get in past curfew because 'I lost track of time.' We both know what that means." She smirked.

"We weren't...I wasn't…"

Isabella said nothing except point at my shirt. Not only was it on inside out, I'd missed a few buttons, it was untucked and more than slightly skewed.

"And your hair's totally crazed."

I dragged my fingers through it and shrugged sheepishly. Guilty as charged.

"Did you use protection?" Isabella mocked in a dad-worthy voice.

"Duh. I wouldn't want another you running around." I ruffled her head and she stuck her tongue out at me. "We should probably get to bed."

Isabella nodded. "You're going to have fun opening the coffee shop in, oh," she checked the time. "Three hours."

Before we separated in our respective bedrooms Isabella turned serious for a minute.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?" I answered with a yawn.

"You okay?"

I smiled and gave her a one armed hug before sending her off to bed. "I'm definitely okay."

And I was. Hell, I was more than okay, I was great. I got laid for the first time in...a while. But it was more than that. I liked Carmen, a lot. Maybe, possibly it could turn into something more. If I let myself, I could envision a future with her.

Unfortunately, sometimes life takes us in different directions. Or different states as it were in our case.

Just nine weeks after our relationship began, Carmen showed up at the coffee shop mid-morning on a Tuesday. I knew something was up before she said a word. I took her to the back office where she tearfully told me she'd been offered a job at a college in Oregon. It came with a significant pay increase and great benefits. Inherently, I knew it would be the end of us. With my business and Isabella to consider, moving was as out of the question as expecting Carmen and Aaron to stay for me. A long distance relationship wasn't something I wanted to pursue and I felt horribly guilty for it. I could see us trying if marriage was on the horizon but we weren't there.

We spent as much time together we could in those few weeks before she moved. The weekend before the big day we spent a couple days in Vancouver, Canada, where we didn't do a lick of sight-seeing and barely got a wink of sleep. We made love, conversations, and memories.

It was hard saying goodbye to Carmen and Aaron on that rainy afternoon. I gave her son a hug and a high-five, telling him to be good for his mom. He got himself settled in the car while Carm and I stood there, not knowing what to do or say.

Was I making a big mistake? Should I rethink the decision and pursue a long-distance relationship? Portland wasn't that far away- a three hour drive max. Totally doable.

Standing there in the driving rain, my hands shoved in my pockets instead of around the girl in front of me, I knew the right decision was to let her go. If Carmen was the girl for me, the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, I wouldn't be asking myself any questions. I'd be saying 'see you soon' not 'take care of yourself.' If we were meant for each other, I love you's would have already been exchanged.

I kissed her then. My arms sliding around her waist; hers circling my neck. It felt like a goodbye kiss. There was no urgency, just soft lips and timid tongues. We paused after our lips separated, our faces centimeters apart. So much was said in that space. Her eyes searched mine and I wondered if she hoped I'd ask her to stay even if it was so she could say no.

The back of my hand trailed down her cheek, brushing away wetness from the rain and her tears. I cupped her face before pressing my lips to her forehead.

"You should go," I whispered. "You're going to hit rush hour."

I stayed on the sidewalk watching her taillights disappear, leaving me feeling more conflicted than empty. I climbed the steps to my place, slowly, and one at a time, not in any rush to go inside. To be alone...again.

I flopped down in the recliner, grateful for the comfort it provided. I knew I hadn't made a mistake in letting Carmen go: it was another realization that knocked me on my ass. I'd let her go because I didn't loved her. I hadn't ever loved anyone - at least not in the all consuming way Emmett loved Rosalie or my how my parents loved each other. The way a man should love a woman. Tori was perhaps the closest to that kind of love I'd experienced, but even she was more of an infatuation than anything else.

35 years old and not only hadn't I fallen head over heels, I'd never opened myself up to be loved that way either. I wouldn't admit this to anyone but Ally truly broke my heart. I didn't love her, but I had wanted to. Oh, how, I'd wanted to. I'd built our relationship on the hope Isabella would knit our family together. Had Ally left because I was unlovable? I was convinced that was at least part of the reason why she'd left.

Hours later, Isabella came home to find me still in the same position, staring into space. The next thing I knew, my daughter coaxed me to the kitchen table, with baked tortellini, garlic bread, and Caesar salad in front of me and a glass of red wine at the ready.

"What's all this?"

"I think I know you well enough to realize when you need to be taken care of. Eat, but not too much. There's tiramisu for dessert."

I reached for her hand. "Honey, thank you."

"No thanks necessary, Dad. You'd do the same for me. What am I saying, you _have_ done the same for me."

"Isabella, I love you."

"I love you, too."

After dinner, Isabella shooed me from the kitchen while she cleaned up. My phone chimed with a message from Carmen letting me know they'd arrived safely in Oregon. Instead of texting her back, I gave her a quick call. I told her I hoped they settled in quickly and she said thank you. We ended the call with simple goodbyes, nothing more.

Later, Isabella and I watched a movie together with a big bowl of popcorn between us, more wine in my glass, and chocolate M&M's nearby. No Jake. No Carmen. Just me and my favorite girl. There wasn't anyone else I wanted to be with. It made me realize Isabella was the only one I needed in my life and soon, too soon, she'd be heading off to college. I didn't know how I was going to make it through that transition.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I'd love for you to leave a review. If you do, tell me what your FB name is so I can make sure we're friends over there!

Alanna: Thank you is never enough. xo


	16. Chapter 15

My texts with Carmen dwindled to every other day, and eventually stretched to a week or more between messages. It wasn't long before I really didn't even notice the loss of her presence in my life. I went to work, came home, and made supper for Isabella and myself. After dinner we tidied up, then I'd fold laundry while watching TV, and, quite often, fall asleep in the recliner. Life may have been mundane but at least my daughter was a part of it.

When Isabella graduated from Woodway High School with top honors, I wept seeing her in her cap and gown. Not only because my own high school graduation was so anticlimactic but because it was 12 years of hand-holding, homework, friendships, and falling outs. Because she was my baby, and I wasn't ready to release her to a world of wolves.

I busied myself with practical matters - packing her belongings and buying necessities for her dorm room. It was all a ruse to keep my mind off the fact my daughter was not only leaving home, she was leaving me. No one, and nothing, prepared me for that.

In the early throngs of fatherhood, I would've sold my soul for just one uninterrupted night of sleep. Back then, the prospect of having my daughter leave home- giving me back a social life- sounded amazing.

That was then.

Years of her life completely intertwined with my own had shaped me into who I was - Edward Cullen, father to Isabella. The new reality as _just_ Edward Cullen was completely foreign to me now.

And with her on the cusp on branching out, how was I supposed to comprehend a daily routine that didn't include her? What would be the point of cooking for one? Who would watch 'The Voice' with me?

In the middle of the night, even more questions robbed me of sleep.

Why didn't Isabella need me like I needed her?

Would she be okay in California? Safe? Happy?

Would she remember to eat her veggies?

Who was going to make her a cup of Chamomile tea when she couldn't sleep at three in the morning?

I'd read all the parenting books. Each told me my job as a parent was to help my child grow into an independent adult, and then send her happily off to make her way in the world. And I think I'd done a hell of a job, all things considered. But where was the instruction manual to prepare me for this stage of her life _and_ mine?

With three days to go before Jake and I would make the long drive with Isabella to California, my daughter and I had a dinner date planned - just the two of us.

It was my last opportunity to give profound fatherly advice before she left. To say wise and important things. Words that would stay with her, a subconscious reminder to always choose integrity over anything else. I tried to jot my thoughts down but I all I did was stare at a blank piece of paper. I was going to have to wing it, which could very well turn into a disaster.

I'd made reservations for us at a posh new restaurant in town. I parked at Bracket's Landing, a short walk to the restaurant. However, with the beach straight ahead, the idea of dinner in a crowded, stuffy restaurant fell by the wayside. I loosened my tie and Isabella pulled her long, sun-bleached hair into a low ponytail and slipped out of her sandals. We grabbed a couple hot dogs and sodas from a street vendor and sat on a bench watching the late summer sun sink into the ocean.

"Look—"

"Dad, I—"

We laughed as we both spoke at the same time. Isabella encouraged me to go first.

"I feel like I'm supposed to give you this... _talk_ before I send you out into the world."

"Uh, Dad, we had this talk. And it'll be just as uncomfortable now as it was then."

I bumped my shoulder against hers. "Not that kind of talk; once was enough. I'm supposed to bestow words of wisdom upon you."

"Bestow what upon me?" Isabella snort-laughed.

"I'm trying to make it sound like I know what I'm talking about, okay?"

"Sorry, go ahead."

"Thank you. This is the first time you're going to be on your own and I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with advice you can take with you. But I've got nothing. My mind's blank."

Isabella placed her hand on my forearm. "What would you tell your 18-year-old self?"

I chuckled. "Not to have sex with some random girl at Tyler Crowley's New Year's Eve party."

"Gee, thanks for ruining my existence."

"Sorry, that slipped out." I smiled at her then took a minute to really think.

"I'd probably tell myself to not be in a rush to grow up." The Lord knows, it happened far too quickly for me and even faster with my daughter.

"Okay, what else?" Isabella probed. I scratched my head.

"I'd learn to trust myself more. I've wasted a lot of time second-guessing. And not just as a parent. I still doubt myself, sometimes daily. But even if I haven't made the best decision, I've lived through my choice and learned from it."

"Do you think me going to USC is the right thing to do?" Isabella asked hesitantly.

"Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. What if I fail? College is so different that high school."

I swallowed the rest of my hot dog and crumpled up my napkin. "Don't be afraid of not succeeding. Be more afraid of not trying, and then living with regret. If you fall, pick yourself up and keep moving forward. Always forward. Don't look back - you're not going that way."

"What if I don't make any friends there?" Her eyes brimmed with tears. I reached for her hand.

"Honey, you've always been able to make friends easily."

She shrugged. "This is different. It's college, you know?"

"There was a point in my life when I can honestly say I was friendless. It was after Ally left, when all my friends were either away or busy with college. I learned the most about being a friend when I was alone. What I mean to say is I value friendships more now because there was a time when I didn't have anyone in my corner. Sometimes the uncomfortable period of transition is necessary to learn and grow."

Beside me, Isabella smiled. "When did you get so smart?"

"When Emmett introduced me to Tumblr and Pinterest." We shared a laugh.

"I love you, Dad." Isabella dropped her head onto my shoulder. Kissing the top of her head, I blinked back tears.

"I love you, too. More than you will even know. And when you think you do, when you have a baby of your own and think your heart may explode from love, sweetheart, you're only touching the tip of the iceberg for how much I care about you." I don't think Isabella could ever know the depth of my love. It was simply immeasurable. Infinity times infinity times infinity.

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Of course, baby girl. Anything."

"What about Jake. What if he...if we…." She struggled to find the right words. "What happens if things change between us while I'm gone?"

I didn't want to be the one to tell her that very well could happen; that he may not be her happily ever ever. My index finger tapped my lips thoughtfully. I blew out a breath because she had me stumped.

"Can you give me a sec on that one?"

Isabella quirked her eyebrow at me. "Uh, okay? What are you doing?" She asked when she saw me pulling my phone out of my pocket.

"Consulting Pinterest." I chuckled.

She thought I was joking but I clicked on the app and searched for the answer. I found the perfect quote and read it aloud.

"'You need to forget all the reasons why it won't work out and believe in the one reason why it will.' See? I knew Pinterest wouldn't let me down."

Isabella smiled. "Thank you."

I winked and slipped my phone into my pocket. "No problem."

We sat talked as the sky gave way to varying hues of pink, orange, and purple. Long after the sun disappeared into the horizon, to the point where the sea and sky were the same color of darkness; where each were infinite and you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Much like my love for Isabella.

...

When the time came to leave for California, it hit me much harder than I ever anticipated. Like a sucker punch to my gut. With Jake and Isabella waiting in the truck, I took a quick look around the apartment to make sure nothing irreplaceable was left behind.

I paused in the doorway of her room. Her bed was stripped down to the mattress, walls nearly bare, one lone teddy bear perched on the bookshelf. I held the door frame to steady myself. Fuck. It was really happening. She was leaving me. I closed the door behind me so I wouldn't have to look at the emptiness when I arrived back home.

The drive, though uneventful, was difficult. It hurt to breathe. The most random memories seeped into my brain. Isabella riding her bike without training wheels for the first time. The feeling of her hand slipping from mine as she walked into her kindergarten class. I remembered when she asked me not to kiss her goodbye in front of her classmates. Each memory was a baby step leading up to this very moment. I still wasn't ready.

Tears randomly blurred my vision as I sped down the highway. At rest stop diners I kept my sunglasses in place to hide my telltale red-rimmed eyes. Jake kept his on as well.

We stopped for the night and got a hotel room. Two single beds meant someone had to sleep on the uncomfortable cot. For the first time since leaving home I smirked, as Isabella and I each climbed between crisp, white sheets leaving Jake to make himself comfy on a cot on the floor.

We lingered over breakfast, none of us in a hurry to get to our final destination. And the closer we got to California the quieter we all became. Isabella stared out the window, silently wiping away her tears. I held her hand, fighting my own tears. I glanced in the back seat where 6'4 Jake had crammed himself between boxes - the contents of Isabella's new life. His sunglasses hid his eyes but I could see the furrow knitted between his brows. This wasn't going to be an easy transition for him, either.

We eventually made it to campus, and it was just as beautiful as I'd imagined, if not more. Bubbles of excitement burst in my belly because although I was going to miss Isabella something fierce, I was secretly excited for her to embrace the opportunity I'd given up.

Our time together was a whirlwind of activities - getting her settled into her dorm, mapping out her classes, and getting to know the campus. We spent another night in a hotel but this time I splurged for Jake and Isabella to have their own room, much to their surprise. I wasn't always an asshole to the guy. Truth be told, I needed time to myself, to shed tears without embarrassment.

Too soon, Jake and I were preparing to head back to Washington. We said our goodbyes to Isabella in the parking lot of her dormitory.

I pulled my girl into a hug so tight I thought she'd protest. She didn't. And when I went to let go she hugged _me_ even tighter.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Daddy."

Daddy.

That did me in. I removed my sunglasses and let the tears flow freely.

"I miss you already, baby girl."

We hugged a while longer but I knew we needed to be on our way if we were going to make the halfway point before rush hour. I nodded in Jake's direction.

"I think someone else wants to say goodbye."

I wiped away her tears with my thumbs then I pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before motioning Jake forward. I watched them for a minute or two. Watched as Isabella's arms wrapped around his neck, his hands circled her waist, words exchanged between kisses and tears. I turned away and let them have their moment. My backside rested on the rear bumper of the truck, arms crossed over my chest as I waited for them to finish. I prayed I'd hold myself together.

"We can go now," Jake's gruff voice informed me as the passenger door opened and slammed shut abruptly. I lifted my hand to wave goodbye but before I could make the motion Isabella was sprinting toward me, throwing herself into my arms. She grabbed around my middle, her head pressed to my chest, tears staining my shirt. She was exactly where I wanted her to be - minus the tears.

"Isabella," I whispered her name so she wouldn't hear my voice about to break. "Honey, Jake and I have to go." It killed me to think I may have to pry her hands from me but staying longer wouldn't make things any easier.

She shook her head. "I don't want you to."

"You'll be okay."

"How do you know?" Her voice quivered.

I lifted her chin with my finger. "Because I know. Maybe not today, but eventually. You'll find your way, get into a routine, and make friends. We can Facetime every night, and your plane ticket is already bought for Thanksgiving. I'll send you care packages with Gramma's shortbread and beef jerky and—"

Isabella's half-laugh, half-cry interrupted me.

"I hate beef jerky."

"Right. I knew that."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Dad. Thank you."

I was trying to convince myself as much as her that everything was going to be okay. That I would survive college, too. Somehow.

With a final hug, I got into the truck. I told Isabella I refused to drive until she was safe inside the dormitory. Really, I couldn't stand to see any more tears stain her beautiful face. Only when the door closed behind her did I put the key into the ignition. I waited a moment to see if she'd poke her head out one last time but she didn't. Jake and I were on our way home.

We drove for over three hours in silence before my passenger spoke.

"Thanks for letting me tag along."

"Yeah, no problem."

I glanced over at the boy my daughter had given her heart to. With his sunglasses off it was easy to tell he'd been crying and it made it hard for me to dislike him. For two years he'd been a part of our lives and I admit, for the majority of it I didn't like him. Mostly because I didn't think anyone could love Isabella the way I felt she deserved. Seeing the lost, forlorn look on his face made me realize perhaps he did.

"I'm really going to miss her."

"You and me both, Jake. You and me both."

* * *

 ** _Well, his baby has gone off to college *sniff*sniff* I may have teared up a bit writing this one but it's one of my favorite chapters. I really hope you enjoyed it. Many thanks to Alanna for making my words pretty. xo_**


	17. Chapter 16

I never realized how loud silence could be until Isabella was out of the house. The sounds that made our house a home were gone. No music playing from behind her bedroom door, no giggles and whispers with her girlfriends, no melodic ringtones or pings from text messages at all hours. I could actually hear the hum of the refrigerator when I lay in bed at night.

Monday through Friday I'd check the clock at 3:30, expecting her to burst through the front door after school, tossing her backpack and jacket in a heap on the floor. Saturday afternoons I'd wait for her to pop by the coffee shop with Jake, but even he stopped coming around. I even missed the knife, still coated in peanut butter, resting on the side of the sink after she'd made herself a sandwich.

On the few occasions Isabella came home, her time was divided between Jake and me, each of us vying for her attention. I tried to be respectful of their relationship but it hurt when she'd choose him over me. And then, always too soon, we were saying another tearful goodbye at the airport.

Without her I felt incomplete. We'd been a team for so many years...suddenly I was on my own and didn't know what the hell I was doing. The process of becoming myself again was a far more difficult and daunting process that I thought.

I threw myself into my work, often staying at the cafe from opening at 5:00 am to closing at 9:00 pm simply to avoid spending time in my empty apartment. Edward Cullen business owner replaced my preferred alter ego of Dad.

Emmett and Rosalie invited me out often, but going to their house only delayed the inevitable quiet of my own. The silent greeting when I got home was a sad reminder.

My daughter frequently suggested I start dating again, saying she didn't like me being alone. I always reminded her the only girl for me was a pretty one named Isabella. When she rolled her eyes I told her I was thinking of getting a cat for companionship, in hopes that would appease her. I'd have to get hundreds of cats to replace my girl.

Somehow, we made it through our first year. We had an epic summer vacation. I took her to Hawaii for two weeks, though with the amount of time she spent Facetiming Jake I felt like he was there with us. Back in Washington, we went on hikes, spent long, lazy days at the beach, and visited my parents back home in Forks. But when September came it brought with it the depressive loneliness again, and left the memories of our summer together imprinted on my heart.

Her sophomore year was marginally easier as I knew what to expect, but each farewell was still difficult. I continued working crazy hours to fill the void Isabella had left. She came home for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years, and I relished our time together. Isabella's next trip home was Spring Break and though only months away, it felt like a lifetime. Those short January days shifted to long, lonely evenings. But I muddled through my day-to-day routine as best I could.

And then something a little crazy happened….

The flower shop next door to our cafe closed when old Ms. Tanner retired. The prime retail space was promptly scooped up. Thick curtains soon obscured the view of the interior, and a handwritten sign proudly proclaiming "Coming Soon! Second Story Bookstore" was propped in the window. Emmett and I were thrilled - a bookstore next to our cafe was perfect, although the month of banging and hammering from the renovations wasn't much fun.

And then _she_ started coming in to the coffee shop - the new owner of the bookstore - early each morning, ordering a soy latte to go. I'm not exactly sure what it was about her. Maybe it was her smile, the left side of her mouth turning up more than the right. Perhaps it was how she'd add four packages of sugar to her latte, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone noticed. Whatever it was, I found her intriguing. And she became something for me to look forward to each day. I was smiling again.

And each afternoon, she would return - her long, chestnut-colored hair a little more disheveled than before. She'd order an Earl Grey tea and a scone; settling in at a table by the window, where she would read her book for an hour or more before shrugging back into her jacket and heading out.

I watched her. A lot.

As stupid as it sounds, I fell a little bit in love with her with in those rather ordinary moments. The way she stared out the window deep in thought, as though she were digesting words more than the food. Or how she'd kick off a shoe and tuck her foot under her thigh, the other leg swinging slightly as she read. I'd watch her twist a silver ring around her finger, not her wedding finger, I might add. That one was conveniently naked.

I'd tried to be stealthy, but she caught me staring at her several times. I tried to think of something to say to her, which normally would have been easy for me since my job routinely consisted of making small talk with strangers. I could ask when the bookstore was opening or what she thought of the football game the night before. All I really wanted, though, was to know if she might be interested in having dinner with me. For two weeks straight I couldn't even work up the courage to ask her name.

At one point, I caught _her_ staring at _me_ before she immediately averted her eyes. She pulled a book out of her bag and started reading but I noticed in the hour she was there, she never once turned a page.

"Would you just go talk to her already?" Emmett jabbed his elbow into my side and I shook my head at the distraction.

"What? Who?" I tried to act nonchalant.

"You know who. Book Girl. You're making goo-goo puppy dog eyes at her. Clearly, you're madly in love."

I scoffed. "Emmett, you know there's only one girl for me—"

"Her name's Isabella," we said in unison.

Emmett rolled his eyes. "Give me a break with that. Go ask if she needs more hot water for her tea. Say 'hi' and go from there."

"I don't know…."

In the moment I hesitated, Emmett brushed past me, calling me a pussy under his breath. I watched as he sauntered over to her table. I busied myself with...well, nothing really, as I watched him introduce himself, hand outstretched. There was a loud guffaw and Emmett waved me over.

I wiped my hands on my jeans, came around the counter and walked over to him. To her.

"I'd like you to meet our new neighbor."

 _Why the hell was he smirking like an idiot?_

"Edward, this is Isabella."

I choked on my own saliva. Instead of giving me a whack on the back, Emmett's grin widened.

"Are you okay? Is he okay?" Beautiful brown eyes, wide with concern, ping-ponged back and forth between Emmett and me.

I nodded as I choked out words.

"Sorry, yes, I'm fine. Isabella, is it?" I extended my hand.

"Bella. Just Bella."

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," Smart ass Emmett commented as he shoved me into a chair. "I'll let you kids get acquainted."

After he abandoned me, Bella again asked if I was alright.

"Oh yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good." She paused to take a sip of tea. She looked at me over the rim of her mug. "So, are you going to tell me why my name is so funny to your friend, and why you almost coughed out a lung?" She smirked as she asked.

"My, uh...daughter is named Isabella."

"Aww, how old is she?"

I chuckled because I knew she was assuming I had a little one. I watched her face as I told her, "She's nineteen."

Her eyes widened and I couldn't help but to laugh. "I had her when I was 14, you know. Naw, I'm kidding. I was pretty young but not _that_ young."

With blushed cheeks, I explained exactly why Emmett had gotten such a kick out of her name.

"I've kind of been out of the dating scene...for a while. My friends and daughter pester me about it, so I tell them there's only one girl for me - a pretty one named Isabella. Get it - my daughter is Isabella and well, your name is Isabella and you're obviously beautiful, and oh my God! I can't believe I just told you that." I rubbed my crimson face with my hands.

Thankfully, Bella didn't run screaming while simultaneously calling the police for a restraining order. In fact, she stayed and talked with me long after her tea had turned cold and my staff was impatiently waiting to close up for the night. Everyone except Emmett. He stood behind the counter, arms folded across his chest with a big, goofy grin on his face. No doubt he'd already called Rosalie. I half expected her to walk in the door. Before that happened I offered to walk Bella to her car. There, we continued our conversation for another 45 minutes despite the dipping January temperatures. I didn't even feel the cold.

Bella Swan, 26 and recently single, had moved here from Chelan, a small town three hours east of Edmonds. A librarian in her hometown, she was excited to be opening up her new and used bookstore in a few weeks. I think I remember everything she told me that day. Her favorite book was The Catcher in the Rye, she hated pineapple, and loved to cook. I told her about raising Isabella alone, and opened up about how lonely I was with her away at school. At that point she reached out and gave my arm a squeeze. My heart raced at the physical connection.

I didn't kiss her that night, as much as I wanted to but couldn't trust myself to stop after just one. The next two days were the same. We'd sit at the corner table by the window, Bella with Earl Grey, me with a dark roast, and Emmett behind the counter with a huge grin on his face. We'd talk about anything and everything, for hours, without any lulls. But when I would walk her to her car there would be an awkward pause before we'd part.

"I guess I should get going," I said, fingers drumming on my pant leg.

"Can I ask you something first?"

"What's that?"

"Are you ever going to kiss me?"

She smiled and before I could formulate a reply, Bella rose up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine. And thank God, my tongue knew what to do after that. We leaned against the car, her body flush against mine and made out, high school style, for half an hour. My stomach was all flip floppy and my hands went clammy and it was the best feeling in the world.

There was temporary madness in the days following. The butterflies in my stomach didn't settle down. I'd see her name on my caller ID and my cheeks would hurt from smiling so much. When we were together, I needed to have a physical connection with her - my hand on her thigh, her fingers laced with mine, or my knee touching hers. When we were apart, she was always on my mind. Maybe it was her laugh, her eyes, or the scent of her skin, but whatever it was made me fall, really fucking hard.

Despite this, we weren't immediately intimate. Part of me was guarding my heart because the connection I felt was so intense it scared me. I was in uncharted territory. It felt so amazing, but I was afraid it - she - wasn't real.

Three weeks later, Bella invited me to her place for dinner. She answered the door dressed in a black skirt that hugged her curves and a shirt that didn't show nearly enough cleavage. It drove me insane. I took off my shoes, left my coat draped over a chair, and followed her into the kitchen. She went to the stove, stirring something...I have no idea what because I was checking out her ass. I couldn't help myself. Bella turned, talking to me over her shoulder. She looked as delicious as dinner smelled.

I sidled up to her, wrapping my arms around her waist, my lips pressing kisses to the side of her neck. Bella turned off the stove and moved the pot off the hot element as she turned to face me.

My hand slipped under her skirt, skimming over her smooth skin. I squeezed her ass and leaned in for more kisses. When we finally came up for air, Bella looked at me with hooded eyes and a wicked smile. We undressed simultaneously - me with shaking hands and her with a air of confidence about her. Dinner was forgotten until closer to midnight, but we still made good use of the kitchen table.

The sex...holy hell. It was mind-blowing. We started out fast and frenzied. Her hands fisted my hair, my lips desperate to kiss every inch of her of bare skin. My tongue lapped greedily as her fingernails bore into my shoulders. And when I entered her, she thrust her hips forward so we slammed together. My God. I was in heaven.

Our first time together, though amazing, would be classified as fucking. A purely physical encounter, a means to release weeks of pent-up frustrations in a rough, primal, sweaty way. It was fucking - and fucking fantastic!

But later that night Bella and I slowed things down. Our fingers interlaced, legs intertwined, eyes steadfast on each other. I watched as she lost herself in her orgasm, my name whimpered in passion, and it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

Bella and I became inseparable. We became _that_ couple. The one sitting on the same side of the table, holding hands and exchanging lustful glances. We'd steal kisses (and more) in the back office. I couldn't commit to going out with Emmett and Rosalie until I'd checked with Bella. My friends, by the way, loved Bella and Isabella was just happy I wasn't alone so much.

When Bella stayed over, which was often, we would linger over our breakfast. Sitting side-by-side at my kitchen table, her clad one of my shirts, reading the entertainment section of the paper while I tried to coax her back to the bedroom by planting kisses down the side of her neck.

And on one of those mornings, I could envision the scenario being not only a daily thing, but a forever thing. It was then I blurted out I loved her. Bella, her hair adorably disheveled from our morning romp, last night's makeup still smudged under her eyes, started laughing.

"I look like shit and you're telling me you love me."

I shook my head. I didn't see any of that. All I could see was the beauty you don't see with your eyes, but with your heart. And finally, _finally_ , I understood that look on Emmett's face when Rosalie would give him a hug after a day at work. The same look I'd seen my parents exchange many times. It's like everything you'd ever lost returned to you, all at once.

"You look stunning. And it's true. I love you."

Bella turned to sit on my lap. Her hands ran through my hair; her lips, still tasting of orange juice, kissed me. Brown eyes met green as she repeated those three words back to me.

 _That's_ when I knew I would marry her.

* * *

 ** _Alanna did so much magic with this chapter - thank you, sweetie. You're a doll. xo_**

 **I've had so many of you waiting patiently for Edward to meet his Bella. Lots of reviews and PM's either guessing or hoping this would happen. It killed me not to spoil the surprise for you. I hope it was worth the wait.**

 **This is the last update before Christmas/Hanukkah/Holidays/etc. I wish you all the best the season has to offer. My love and prayers going out to those who are having a first without a loved one or with someone who is gravely ill. Special love to Stacey and Jan. xoxo**

 **Thank you again for your support of this unconventional love story.**


	18. Chapter 17

I couldn't wait for Isabella to come home for Spring Break so she and Bella could finally meet. I'd told my daughter a lot about my girlfriend, and I knew they'd become instant friends.

I picked Isabella up from Seatac on Friday night, greeting her with a huge bear hug. I was so thrilled she was home! Grabbing her suitcases, we headed for the car.

"I hope you're hungry; we have an amazing dinner waiting for you at home."

"We?"

"Yeah, Bella and I. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and asparagus. And Bella's baking what might be the best cornbread ever. Oh, man, the house smell incredible and-"

"Sorry, Bella's at our house now?"

"Uh, yeah. Didn't I tell you she was going to be there? I'm sure I did. Anyway, she's really excited to meet you! It's too bad Jake's working tonight but maybe the four of us can spend some time together tomorrow. Go for breakfast or something?"

"Like one big, happy family."

I should learn to shut up and pay attention to the seemingly innocent comments. They speak volumes.

"Yes! Exactly! Here we are." I dropped the suitcases and fumbled with the key fob, looking for the button to pop the trunk.

"Did you get a new car?"

I laughed. "No, silly. I took Bella's because mine's in the shop until Monday." I stowed the suitcases in the trunk. "Get in, we have so much to talk about."

For most of the drive I prattled on about Bella, my excitement about my two favorite girls meeting got the best of me. Isabella was quiet, but I didn't think anything of it. Perhaps I should have.

When we got home, Bella greeted us at the front door. With an apron tied around her waist and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was simply beautiful. She gave me a tentative hug, then extended her hand toward my daughter.

"Isabella, I've heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yeah, you too. Dad talked nonstop about you on the way here."

I chuckled. "Sorry about that. Bella, it smells amazing in here!" I planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I'm going to call Jake real quick."

"It looks like Bella has everything ready, kiddo." I gestured to the dining table already set. "Maybe call him after we eat?"

Bella squeezed my hand. "Dinner can wait, Edward. It's not going anywhere."

Isabella smiled and disappeared to her room. I took advantage of the moment and pulled my girlfriend into a hug then started kissing her but she pulled back.

"Edward, now's probably not a good time for that."

I kissed her collarbone. "It's always a good time for that."

"I'm serious. Isabella probably doesn't want to witness any PDA between her dad and his new girlfriend."

"She's on the phone with Jake. She could be hours." I wagged my eyebrows suggestively. Bella relented and let me kiss her though it was far tamer than I would have liked and my hand slipping under her shirt was swatted away.

"Ahem." Isabella loudly cleared her throat.

Bella abruptly pulled away, her face scarlet.

"Sorry to interrupt. Jake's going to call me later. Should we eat?"

Our dinner conversation was...odd. Bella asked open-ended questions and Isabella replied with mostly short answers.

"So, Isabella, your Dad tells me you're in your second year at USC."

"Uh huh."

"How do you like it?"

"It's good."

"Sweetie, tell Bella about the English literature course you're taking. I'm sure there's a lot you two girls could chat about."

My daughter shrugged. "It's okay."

"What other classes are you taking?" Bella asked.

"A bunch of stuff, you know."

Beside me, Bella tensed up. I gave her upper thigh a squeeze letting her know she was doing great despite the short responses. The rest of the evening was more of the same. Bella would probe and Isabella would shut her down. I chalked it up to her being tired from the flight and needing to decompress from the stresses of school. Maybe her first night home wasn't the ideal time to introduce the two of them. Jake called and my daughter excused herself to her room. Shortly after, Bella and I said a chaste goodnight at her car.

"Well, that was awkward." Bella laughed nervously.

"No, it was fine. You did great. Isabella's normally pretty chatty...she must be worn out from her exams." I kissed her briefly. "I should go back in. I love you. I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. I love you, too." There was disappointment lingering in her final kiss goodnight.

I watched her drive away and shook my head. What the hell just happened? I trudged up the steps and let myself back into the apartment. Isabella was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as she washed the dishes. I grabbed a dish towel from the bottom drawer and fell into step beside her.

"So," I asked as casually as possible. "What did you think of Bella?"

"She's fine."

Of course that meant it wasn't fine at all. My bubble burst.

"Could you expand on fine?" I side-eyed her, trying to read her expression but she was stone-faced.

"She's nice, I guess. You know." Isabella refused to look at me.

"Um, no, I don't. Your short answers don't reveal a whole lot."

"Look, she's great." —which I interpreted to mean she was anything but— "It's just…." She paused and shrugged her shoulders. "It's...weird seeing you with a girlfriend."

"Haven't you been hounding me to date?"

She shrugged again.

"Was it weird when I was dating Carmen?"

"Carmen was different."

I asked what she meant.

"You're always touching Bella. Like during dinner, you were either holding her hand or your arm was around her shoulders. And you were all cuddled up together on the loveseat, your hand on her thigh." She rolled her eyes and continued over-meticulously scrubbing a plate.

"Does that bother you? I'm pretty sure that plate is clean." I took it from her and she went to work on another.

"Kind of, yeah. Not to mention you took a while to say goodnight."

I chuckled because she had no idea how tame our goodnight was. Normally, we were naked in bed by nine. I smiled and Isabella glared at me.

"Sorry. I didn't realize we were so touchy-feely. It's just how we are together, I guess."

"And she's really young. Do you realize she's 11 years younger than you?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"And you're 18 years younger than me. Is that the issue here - her age? Or is something else going on?" I tossed the cloth on the counter as I waited for her to answer me. Isabella finished washing a pot and set it on the drying rack. She pulled the plug then watched the water drain before drying her hands on the towel. She folded it neatly and set it on the side of the sink. Clearly, she was avoiding my question.

"Isabella?"

She shrugged. "I didn't get a good vibe from her, okay?"

I scratched my head. None of this was making any sense.

"I'm tired, I'm going to bed." She moved past me, down the hallway to the bathroom. I followed, needing to continue our conversation and find out what the hell was going on.

Isabella opened the cabinet where we kept the toothbrushes and toothpaste. Her hand froze and then she turned to look at me, eyes narrowed.

"She keeps a toothbrush here?" She asked incredulously.

"She, uh...yeah. She stays over a lot."

"Define a lot." Arms crossed over her chest.

"Almost every night." I admitted. "Look, no offense, but I'm an adult and I don't think I need to apologize for my girlfriend spending the night."

"I bet she was pissed I'm home, hey? Had to go back to her empty little apartment?" Forgoing her toothbrush, she pushed by me and to her room. I was on her heels, which was probably the only reason her door didn't slam in my face.

"Isabella, it's fine. I'm happy to have you home. More than happy, I'm thrilled we have a week together."

"Together as in you and me _and_ her? Fun." She flopped down on her bed. I was flabbergasted my 19 year old daughter was acting like a 14 year old child.

"We can see as little or as much of Bella as you want. I'm not pushing her on you. I wanted you to meet so you could finally put a face to the name I've been telling you so much about." I sat down beside her on the bed. "I thought you'd be happy for me. You're the one who kept telling me to date; I did, and I found this amazing woman. I was excited for you to meet and…and…." My hands raked through my hair. "I'm confused by how you're acting. What's really going on here, kiddo?"

Isabella sat up. "I didn't realize I was going to have to share you with someone this week."

"Like I have to share you with Jake?" My question wasn't meant to be facetious but she obviously took it that way. Isabella crossed her arms over her chest.

"Dad, that's not fair. We're in a serious relationship."

"And you think I'm not?"

"Come on. You've been seeing each other for what, three months, tops? How serious can it be?"

"I'm in love with her, Isabella."

My statement stunned her and her mouth gaped. I immediately felt like an asshole for blindsiding her.

"Wow. I...wow."

"Shit, honey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dropped that bomb. I forget you haven't been here to see how our relationship has progressed so quickly."

"Yeah, apparently I've missed a lot. It's just the whole day was weird. You picked me up in Bella's car and talked nonstop about her the whole way. Then I come home and this...this woman is in _my_ house, wearing _my_ apron, cooking in _my_ kitchen-"

I wanted to correct her 'my' to 'our' but then Isabella said something that put it all into perspective.

"And she's making out with _my_ dad."

Fuck. How could I have been so stupid?

"Just because I love Bella doesn't mean I stop loving you. You're my number one girl, and you always will be. Isabella, don't ever forget that." I placed my hand against her cheek.

My daughter's eyes brimmed with tears and the realization she couldn't ever be replaced.

"God, I'm such a horrible person. I'm so sorry!"

I pulled her into a hug. "You are not a horrible person. I'm sorry, I should've picked up on this earlier. Almost two decades in and I'm still not good at this dad thing."

She pulled away and shook her head. "Don't say that. You're an amazing dad. It's just...how you are with her...I've never seen you so wrapped up in someone before. I wasn't expecting that."

"You should have seen me when you were a baby." I tapped the tip of her nose. "And just an FYI, once I figured out Jake was in love with you, I also got ragey and possessive - ask Emmett. You're a chip off the old block."

"I wasn't—" I raised my eyebrows at her, daring her to disagree. "Nevermind. Seriously, though, you're in love with her?" She hugged her pillow to her chest.

"I am. Very much so. I've…." I paused. Now wasn't a good time to let her know I'd already been shopping for a ring. "Look, I'm not looking for a mom for you. Besides, that'd be weird seeing as she's only seven years older than you." I tried my hand at some humor to lighten things up.

Her shoulder bumped against mine. "Nice work on that, by the way."

I smiled. "Why, thank you."

We were silent for a moment before Isabella spoke again.

"I'm really happy for you, Dad."

"Thank you, sweetie. Are we cool?"

"Yeah, we are. Sorry I was a brat."

"We all have our moments." I kissed the top of her head and got up to leave.

"So, I guess you want me to stay at Jake's this week so you and Bella can, you know, have some _time_ together?"

"Nice try, kiddo."

"I'm an adult, you know."

I shook my head. "Not in my eyes, you're not. Sometimes, I can still see you as a six year old. Like right now - that pout looks vaguely familiar. Goodnight, Isabella."

"Goodnight, Dad. I love you."

"To the moon and back," we said in unison.

Despite their rocky start, by the end of Spring Break Isabella had warmed up to Bella considerably. I wouldn't consider them good friends - it would be years before that would happen - but the week ended much better than it had started.

* * *

 _ **I was so thrilled to read all your reviews from last chapter. I'm so glad I was able to surprise some of you with the introduction of Bella. My apologies for not replying to your reviews yet - I've been super busy with Christmas and my little people.**_

 _ **As we head into the New Year, my hope is that it brings you happiness. May broken hearts from last year begin to heal, may love continue to grow, and friends, old and new, enrich your life. xo  
**_


	19. Chapter 18

I don't think my love for my daugher has ever been in question. And it was depressing as hell sending her on the plane back to California, knowing I wasn't going to see her again until summer break. But I was really, _really_ looking forward to having Bella back in my bed. I called her as I was leaving the airport and we met at my place an hour later, naked and tangled in the sheets ten minutes after getting home.

In the coming weeks and months we basically lived as man and wife. Sharing household chores, cooking together, making love into the early morning hours. But I didn't want to live as a pseudo married couple- I wanted to _be_ a married couple. I wanted the world to know Bella was mine for eternity.

First things first.

The process of searching for the perfect ring was daunting. There were several that were close, but nothing was exactly right. Eventually, I had one custom made at J. Rankin - our local jewelers. The owner's son was a regular customer and gave me a great deal. I had the box tucked away in my closet, waiting for the right moment. It arrived on a hot and humid August evening. I'm not sure if I was sweating more from the heatwave or nerves.

We went to the beach. I was trying to recreate one of my favorite dates with her. We strolled the stretch of sand, both of us barefoot, the light summer breeze blowing her hair loose from her ponytail. The way the sunlight bathed her face, I'd never seen her look more beautiful.

We found a bench and sat down. The sun was beginning to set, the colors in the sky changing from blue to crimson. I started fidgeting and she asked if I was okay. I shook my head.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was thick with concern.

"Nothing; everything's fine. Really good, actually."

"You don't look so good; you're sweating buckets."

I tugged my damp tee shirt away from my chest and asked her to give me a minute. Then I took a deep breath before I began.

"I love you. I have since the very moment I laid eyes on you. There's no one more important in my life than you. I'm the man I am today because of you." I fished around in my pocket for the black box. With trembling hands I took the ring out and promptly dropped it into the sand below. I cursed as I fumbled around for it.

"Sorry, I'm a little nervous. Anyway, this is for you." Unceremoniously, I passed her the diamond infinity ring in white gold. She looked confused. "Just read the inscription."

I saw her smile as she read the three words aloud. "' _Always my daughter.'_ Dad, it's beautiful but I'm a little confused here."

I smiled. "The thing is, I also love Bella. I want her to be my wife."

"Well, I think you just asked the wrong girl."

I shook my head. "If Bella's going to be a permanent part of my life, it means she'll be a permanent part of _our_ lives. I wanted your permission first."

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me. I'm looking for your blessing. You and I, we're a team. I need to know you're alright with this."

Tears welled in her eyes. "Of course you have my blessing! Oh my God! You're getting married!"

"Well, she has to say yes first."

"There's no doubt she will."

I took the ring and slid it onto the ring finger of her right hand, knowing the left was reserved for someone else. Isabella held her hand out admiring the stones glinting in the sunlight.

"It's stunning. I love it."

"I'm glad you like it. I was hoping you'd go with me to pick out a ring for Bella."

Isabella smiled. "I'd be honored. Did Rosalie help you chose this one? It's gorgeous."

"Actually, I went by myself. I had this one made specially for you. You're a one of a kind daughter and only a one of a kind ring would do."

"I love you, Dad. So much."

"The feeling is most definitely mutual."

...

We went shopping the next day. Let me tell you, my kid has extravagant taste. Without fail, in every store she'd choose the most expensive rock. By the end of the third day, I found The One. Isabella agreed. I also have extravagant taste but Bella was worth every single penny. I tucked the ring away and wracked my brain trying to come up with the perfect proposal.

When we got home I noticed Isabella was rather quiet. She was on the couch, knees up, arms wrapped around herself as she stared off into space.

"You okay, kiddo?"

She shrugged.

"Is it...are you sure you're okay with—"

"Oh, God, Dad. Yes! I'm really happy for you that you've found Bella. It's just…it got me thinking."

I sat down beside her on the couch and encouraged her to continue.

"How do you know she's the one? And I'm not asking because I think you're making the wrong decision. I'm asking because...because…." Her head dropped down and she started crying. My arm went around her and I pulled her closer.

I already had an inkling of what she was going to say. I'd noticed that over summer break she'd been spending more time than usual with her girlfriends. Jake was still coming around but normally her time at home was strictly reserved for him and now it was shared, something I found odd. Isabella continued to cry.

"Ssshhh, sweetie. It's okay." She took a minute or two to collect herself. Before she spoke she swiped her fingers under her eyes in attempt to fix her smudged mascara. "Whatever you have to say, I'm not going to judge you. I'm here to listen and give advice if you want it. Okay? So what's going on?"

Isabella didn't look at me as she spoke, her fingers twisting around each other. "There's this guy... back at school. Garrett. He and I….we haven't done anything. Well, anything major, _you know_. But I like him and he likes me."

I raised my eyebrows in question because for her to be this conflicted, I was pretty sure this _thing_ between her and him was probably more serious than 'like.' Isabella corrected herself.

"Okay, it's more serious than that. And... I don't really know how Jake fits into the equation now, because I love him, too. I do. But this thing with Garrett is...it's all so complicated."

She dissolved into tears again. I held her while she unleashed all the feelings of guilt she'd bottled up. This was eating her up inside and she was confiding in _me_. I needed to dig deep to give her amazing advice to walk her through this. There was no time for Google, Pinterest, or Tumblr. It was all on me.

"Fuck."

That wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Isabella gave a little snort.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Dad, what am I going to do?"

"I think you know what you have to do, honey." She shook her head.

"No, I don't."

"Do you know how I know Bella's the one for me? Because as soon as she came into my life, it felt right. I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else. She'll be sitting there, talking or reading a book or watching a movie and there's something in that moment that makes me go 'yeah! That's the woman I love!' And it's not like she's doing anything especially sweet or beautiful. She's just _being_ , and I feel this overwhelming love for her in that very ordinary moment."

"But I love Jake in those ordinary moments, too. I can see myself being married to him."

"Can you see yourself _not_ married to Garrett? Can you envision a life without _him_? You don't marry someone you can live with, you marry the person you can't live without."

My daughter still didn't looked convinced. I scrubbed my hands over my face and thought for a moment.

"Let me put it this way. If you're in love with two people, you should probably choose the second one because if you were truly in love with the first, there wouldn't _be_ a second one."

Tears dripped from her eyes and she nodded. "I'm going to break Jake's heart."

I nodded, tears stinging. "Yes, you will."

"I've never broken up with anyone before. How do I...how am I supposed to tell him?"

"As gently as possible."

…

Two days later, Isabella broke up with Jake. There was a hole in the wall of her bedroom as proof - his fist, not hers. I always suspected some boy would break her heart; I had no idea it would be by her own hand. It didn't lessen the pain. They both cried, and at the end of the day vowed to remain friends. I knew that wouldn't be possible, at least not initially. There needed to be time to heal - on both their parts.

Isabella spent the last five days of August holed up in her room, bawling her eyes out. My daughter learned that even though you break up with someone, removing them from your heart is a whole different story. But new beginnings often start after painful endings, something I learned after Ally left us. Isabella would learn this lesson as well.

When I sent her on the plane back to California, Isabella told me Garrett would be picking her up at the airport. I hoped he knew what she had given up for him - a four and a half year committed relationship with a pretty decent guy. I prayed she'd made the right choice. I never wanted for her to live with regrets.

And at Thanksgiving, when I finally met the boy who'd stolen Isabella's heart away from Jake, it was a no brainer. Not only was she clearly smitten with him, Garrett was equally gaga over her. The Jacob Black chapter in Isabella's life had ended, opening up a brand new, unwritten future.

Mine, however, was closing in on a happily ever after. That is, if I could coax a yes out of Miss Bella Swan.

* * *

 ** _Alanna is more than a beta, she's a bestie. This story is possible because of the time, effort, and love she gives to it. I can't thank her enough xoxo  
_**

 ** _And to all of you, readers and reviewers - thank you ever so much. I've been getting review notifications but when I click the link, it says the review isn't found. Hopefully fanfiction will have this problem fixed soon and then I will be able to reply to you. Sorry if there's a delay.  
_**

 ** _There's one more chapter to go! See you next week._**


	20. Chapter 19

I had Bella's ring - all I needed was the perfect opportunity. But what did that look like? Was it on the beach at sunset or on a camping trip in the middle of nowhere? Should I ask her while on a romantic harbour boat cruise or on bended knee at the Space Needle? Wherever it was, the proposal and location had to be perfect.

The perfectly imperfect day came one rainy October evening. After work I had a short nap, and when I woke up Bella had dinner ready. Not just any dinner - coq au vin. Red wine, chicken, butter, onions, and thick cut bacon - it's heaven in a pot, king of all stews, and it happens to be my favorite.

"Wow. What did I do to deserve this?" I asked, scratching my fingers through my nap-induced crazed hair as I took a seat at the table. Bella shrugged as she ladled the goodness into a bowl.

"It's one of my favorite meals."

"Mine, too," I said.

"See, great minds think alike." It was yet another reason why I knew we were destined to be together. I leaned across the table and gave her a kiss on the lips. "This is a very pleasant surprise. Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome. Now eat, before it gets cold." I wasn't going to waste time arguing. One bite and I moaned.

"Oh my God. This is amazing."

"Thank you."

And in that very ordinary moment on a rather mundane Tuesday evening, I realized my life with Bella wasn't either of those things. She made every day amazing and beautiful. Every moment was perfect if she was in it.

I blurted out my proposal unceremoniously without giving it a second thought; more as a statement than a question.

"Marry me."

Bella laughed. "You want me to marry you because I made you coq au vin? Wow, if I knew it was that easy I would've made it on our first date." She grinned at me and continued eating but when she realized I wasn't joking she slowly lowered her fork.

"I'm serious."

"I'm sorry - what?"

"I...I…" Nerves made me stutter. I sank down to my knees - partly because it was the proper thing to do but mostly because my legs were about to give way. Bella started to cry.

"Bella, will—"

"Yes! Yes!"

I laughed. "Aren't I supposed to ask the question before you say yes?"

"Sorry!"

"Well, the moment is ruined now." I joked and went to stand up but Bella tugged me back down.

"Don't you dare."

My hands started to shake. "I don't think you have any clue how fast my heart is beating right now." My voice was barely audible. Bella took my hand and placed it against her chest. "Probably as fast as mine." Indeed, it was.

I thought about my proposal - the one I'd practiced for days in front of the bathroom mirror. I'd tell Bella how much she meant to me, that I didn't know how amazing life could be until she was an integral part of it. I was going to be articulate and sweet. I would ask her to do the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife and slip the ring on her finger.

"Will you? Please?"

Bella kissed me, giving me an irrevocable yes. At least I hoped it was. I don't even recall if she gave me a verbal reply.

"Oh, shit!" I pulled back.

"What? You want to recant your offer?"

I kissed her again. "No way! Wait right here!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

In my room I dug around in my underwear drawer for the ring. I ended up tossing everything out and onto the floor before I found it buried at the very back. In the kitchen, I went on bended knee again.

"Bella Swan will—"

"I already said yes, Cullen. Now, give me my ring!"

I laughed as I slid it onto her finger.

The next few hours were a little chaotic with phone calls to Isabella, our parents, Emmett and Rosalie. Rose started planning the 'big event', as she called it, that evening, even though Bella and I had yet to set a date.

After all the calls, Bella fisted my shirt and dragged me to the bedroom where she reiterated her definite yes.

In the aftermath, lying in bed naked except for my ring on her finger, I knew I'd found my happily ever after.

…

Bella and I were married six weeks later in Las Vegas, close friends and family by our side, and Isabella in the coveted spot of best man/daughter. Rosalie wanted us to have an elaborate summer wedding but Bella had no desire for anything lavish, and I didn't want to wait. Besides, I didn't care how it happened as long as at the end of the day we were pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Cullen - doesn't that have a nice ring to it?

Our wedding wasn't some cheesy affair at the Chapel of Love with Elvis officiating, although personally, I wouldn't have minded. It was a beautiful and intimate affair on the rooftop deck at the Bellagio, overlooking the water and the strip - a very generous gift from Rosalie and Emmett. Rose insisted if we were going to married in Vegas, it was going to be in style. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

My beautiful bride wore a strapless white dress, her hair tumbling in loose curls over her bare shoulders. I fought back tears, failing miserably, and blundered up my vows. I was extraordinarily lucky to be marrying Bella, and thankful for every step that brought us together.

And that gorgeous wedding gown? It looked even more beautiful in a puddle on the floor of our hotel room.

…

You know how what happens in Vegas is supposed to _stay_ in Vegas? It's a lie.

Nine months and two weeks after our wedding, another daughter blessed my life. Miss Charlie Rose, at eight pounds and one ounce, is just as beautiful as her momma and her big sister. As with Isabella, I lost myself to her at once. Mere seconds after she was born into this world, my heart missed beats and exploded simultaneously. It's still the best feeling in the world. Truthfully, I was worried I wouldn't be able to love Charlie as much as I did Isabella- but it didn't take any time at all to realize that was a baseless concern. It's incredible feeling to have so much love in your heart.

They say when you have a baby, you experience a newfound love, one you didn't know existed, toward that child. And it's true. My love for my daughters is like no other. No one tells you, though, how much more you will fall in love with the woman who made that tiny human and brought her into the world. No drug could match that euphoric rush, that intense wave of love which swept over me.

Charlie was immediately born into a world of love and laughter. Bella's labor was progressing well, but then the baby got stuck. When the nurse brought out some...weird, doctor-y tool to 'help' my eyes went wide.

"Those are freaking salad tongs! You're not putting any kitchenware in...in there!" I cried. Despite her pain, Bella laughed so much. Hard enough that Charlie was dislodged and born after a few good pushes. That moment, as my new daughter took her first breath, was indescribable. By far and away, the most amazing, faith strengthening thing I've ever seen, outside of Isabella's birth.

Seeing my wife smiling down at our darling baby girl laid on her chest left tears streaming down my face in pure adoration. It was overwhelming. I had this thought of 'you are mine' - referring to both mother and child - but it wasn't in the sense of possession or ownership; it was that we all belonged to each other. Forever and always.

Being a dad again in my forties has been a hell of a lot easier than being a dad in my teens. It helps not doing it alone, that's for sure, but I'm much more confident in myself. Isabella turned out fabulously and most of the time I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Charlie should be just fine.

…

A year and a half after I tied the knot, I was walking Isabella down the aisle of her own extravagant wedding to Garrett. After countless meetings with the wedding planners, the caterers, and photographer, I was so thankful Bella and I had the stress-free version.

The days leading up to Isabella's wedding were harder on me than our college separation. How many times had my daughter told me she was going to marry _me_ one day? Her ceremony marked the day Isabella officially stopped seeing me as the most important man in her life. It hurt. A lot.

At the rehearsal the night before, Isabella gave me a gift. A simple linen handkerchief embroidered by her with her wedding date and the words: _Dad, you will always be the first man I ever loved. Thank you for all the sacrifices you made for me. Love, Isabella_. It's one of my most prized possessions.

Then the dreaded day came. Me in a monkey suit; she in the most exquisite wedding gown I'd ever seen, looking radiant. Flooding my mind were pictures of the little girl I'd rocked to sleep, helped dress in the morning, the one I walked to school, the girl that went to the prom with a boy named Jake. My little Isabella was all grown up.

My heart was racing as we waited to walk down the aisle to her forever. I was giving Garrett the best I had to give - my heart and soul in a beautiful yet fragile package. It was gut wrenching.

We stood at the back of the church, her arm through the crook of mine, waiting for the flowergirl and ringbearer to walk down the aisle. I glanced at Isabella. My baby.

Her pigtails replaced with an updo, curls framing her face. Jeans and a tee shirt swapped for sequins and pearls; flip flops for heels. She wore a garter belt instead of Bandaids. It was all too much. I swallowed hard.

"Ready, kiddo?" I gave her hand a squeeze.

Isabella's smile widened. "I'm ready."

"You're sure?".

"Dad." She rolled her eyes. "That man," she gestured to the front of the church where we knew Garrett was waiting, "The way he laughs makes me smile, the way he talks gives me butterflies, when he makes me a cup of tea at one am because he knows I can't sleep...gah, even the way he yells when his favorite player fumbles the ball - everything about him makes me happy."

I blinked back tears because, once upon a time, it was me that made her happy; I'd been replaced.

"Isabella, I want you to promise me something."

"Of course. What is it?"

"If ever there comes a time when Garrett stops making you feel beautiful, or anything less than amazing, you stop and re-evaluate your relationship. You deserve happiness, always."

Tears misted her eyes. "I promise, Daddy."

Daddy. That word is my fucking kryptonite. I willed away the tears.

"Time to go. We have a walk to make."

With her arm through mine we made our journey into the church. Every step felt as though my feet were encased in concrete.

Was I doing the right thing, giving my daughter away to _this_ man?  
Was he good enough for her?  
Could he ever love her enough?

And then I saw Isabella, smiling as big as I'd ever seen, emitting happiness; tears of joy rolling down her beautiful face. I saw Garrett, who was choking back tears as he watched his bride come toward him. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

We made our way down the aisle and paused in front of the pastor.

"Who gives this woman to this man?"

I answered very quietly, my breath caught in my throat. The words refusing to be spoken aloud.

"I do."

I can still feel her kiss on my cheek before her arm slipped from the crook of mine and she took Garrett's. Bittersweet. When they were pronounced husband and wife, my daughter was no longer Isabella Cullen. It sounded foreign...and yet also right. Yes, she was Garrett's wife, but she was still my daughter. Always my daughter.

The rest of the day was filled with many more tears but I went to bed that night knowing Isabella was happy, truly happy. And that was all that mattered to me. Although when I thought about _them_ doing _that_ in the hotel down the street…yeah...still not cool.

...

Isabella heard through mutual friends that Jacob got married shortly after she did, to a much younger girl. Considering my wife is 11 years my junior, I have no comment on the age difference. As long as they're happy, who is anyone to judge? Love is love is love.

...

Ally made contact a few years later. Somehow she managed to track me down, though I'd long since moved from the original apartment complex. She showed up at my house on Isabella's birthday. We were all there, the usual crew, and had just finished our horrible off-key rendition of Happy Birthday when there was a knock on the door. I left the others in the kitchen while I went to see who was calling. I recognized her immediately.

I want to say Ally looked like hell. Weathered and far older than her years. Her black hair turned grey and frizzy; bags circling under her eyes twice over. Her complexion ashen and her thin, pursed lips with only the faintest of rouge to them. But really, she looked the same, just older, with an air of impudence about.

"Hello, Edward."

I'd like to think in the decades since I'd had contact with her I've grown and matured. Enough where if I were to see her on the street I could say 'hello', albeit with gritted teeth, or wave 'hi' (with my middle finger), and hopefully not want to maim her for being the horrible, nasty person she was. The reality was the instant I saw her, years of hatred seeped through my veins, gnarling my fists.

I narrowed my eyes to slits. "What do you want? I don't have time for any of your fucking bullshit." I kept my voice low so I wouldn't alert Isabella.

"I want to see Iz."

I clenched my jaw as I corrected her. "It's Isabella. And no, you can't."

"Ed—"

I lunged at Ally, spitting words in her face.

"Get. The. FUCK. Out of my house before I call the goddamn cops."

Someone, Emmett or Garrett I didn't know, yanked me a safe distance away, giving me a verbal warning to stay cool. I shook them off and was about to attack Ally again when Isabella walked into the living room. I froze, my fists balled at my sides.

"Hey, Dad…."

She stopped mid-sentence, glancing back and forth between me and Ally. Her eyes widened and I knew she had figured out who was at the door. Seamlessly, we- Emmett, Garrett, Rosalie and I- flanked Isabella's side.

"Hi, Iz...Isabella."

"Ally. M...Mom."

I growled. Sure, she was her mom, on a fucking technicality. Ally may have carried her for nine months but I carried her a hell of a lot longer than that.

My daughter's hand found mine. I don't know if she was comforting me or vice versa but I held on tight.

"Why are you here?" Isabella showed a calmness in her voice which kept it monotone yet concise.

Ally shrugged her shoulders. "I was curious about you."

Isabella's grip on my hand tightened and I knew without looking at her that Ally's statement had pissed her off. My daughter was a time bomb and the seconds were rapidly counting down leaving Ally precisely three seconds to explain herself.

 _One._

"You were curious about me?"

 _Two_.

Ally nodded.

 _Three_.

"You walked out of my life a without a backward glance then show up decades later, unannounced, because you were fucking _curious_?" Her words were laced with venom. Ally shrunk, cowering on the spot.

"No 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you' or even, shit, 'How ya been, kid?' Nooooo, you're here because your morbid curiosity got the better or you? You're fucking unbelievable!"

"Maybe this was a bad idea." Ally turned to go.

"No!" Isabella screamed with all the rage you'd expect from a girl who was meeting the woman who abandoned her as an infant. "You do not get to walk away from me."

"I - I'm sorry. Go ahead."

"You are a selfish, horrible person. I don't even know you but I hate you. Hate! I'm glad I never had to pretend to love you."

Isabella was trying hard not to cry. I clutched her hand tighter, giving her strength to continue if she wanted or the okay to walk away. She pushed through her anger, her pain, and continued. Her voice broke initially but she regained her composure quickly.

"I never missed you, just so you know. Dad never let me. He's everything I've ever needed. And when I was growing up, he didn't say one mean thing about you. Not even once. Do you know why? Because he wanted me to believe in fairy tales; he wanted me to believe in love."

Silence fell as the words hit Ally. She looked at me. "Why would you protect me like that?"

I snorted. "It wasn't you I was protecting. I never wanted to be your hero, Ally. Only Isabella's."

"I'm—"

I interrupted her because I didn't give a shit what she had to say.

"You said you were curious about her? Well, let me enlighten you. Isabella is fucking amazing. She has given me a reason to smile every single day. I feel sorry for you because they are reasons you will never know. Cannot fathom. You've missed out on a lifetime of happiness, Ally. And I warned you if you walked out that door you were never welcome back. I meant it. Go back to your pathetic little life and get the hell out of ours."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have come here." Ally opened the door, stepped through then paused as she turned to face our - _my_ \- daughter.. "Just one thing before I go."

Isabella stepped forward, standing tall in front of her mother. Ally smiled, thinking she was being given a second chance to plead her case.

"Thank you. I—"

Isabella slammed the door shut, quite literally in her mother's face. Whatever she was going to say, no one cared. Even if she would have apologized for leaving all those years ago it wouldn't change a damn thing. Some things are unforgivable. We never saw or heard from the bitch again.

There was a time when confronting Ally might have left Isabella a broken, sobbing mess but she was a new mom herself, to three-month old Mason Edward. The magnitude of Isabella's hatred toward her mother wasn't truly felt until she had fallen head over heels in love with her son. The question of how Ally could leave - and what the hell was she thinking when she did - will never be answered.

...

Life is good. Better than good. It's grand. My family and friends mean the world to me. My girls especially fill my heart with an abundance of love and happiness.

Over the course of this journey I've fallen and risen, made mistakes and memories; been hurt and done the hurting. And through it all I've learned valuable lessons.

I know we are not entitled to anything. All those years ago, I expected my parents to take responsibility for my mistake. I thought they should raise my child while I went away to school. I can't imagine what I would have lost out on, how vastly different my life would be, had they done so. I was just a kid when Isabella was born; at such a formative age of becoming myself. I am who I am _because_ of her.

Isabella taught me to trust in myself even though my body felt like it was formed of doubt. Patience was learned while holding a potty training little girl over a toilet and when watching a slug cross the sidewalk with an enthralled seven year old. Isabella made me understand that being rich has more to do with what's in your heart and very little with what your bank balance is. I learned to be a little less serious and a lot more silly. Knowing that every day, all day, I was setting an example of how to be kind, compassionate, and loving made me strive to be the best man I could be.

Most importantly, because of one special little girl, I learned to love. Unabashedly. Ardently. Irrevocably.

A special part of my heart will always belong to my sweet Isabella Claire. Of all the things in my life that I might have, could have, or should have done differently, there's one thing I'd never change and that's having her as my daughter. Sometimes the things we can't change end up changing us. I am forever thankful.

* * *

 _ **I cannot thank you all enough for all your support of this fic. You took a chance on this story - a very different kind of love story. There was no guarantee of Bella coming into Edward's life; no promise of a happily ever after for our favorite guy. And yet you accepted that and week after week you continued to read and review. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for being wonderful.**_

 _ **Alanna: Hvala. Dank je. Merci. Þakka þér fyrir. Gratias ago tibi. Ngiyabonga. There's only so many ways I can say thank you in English but Google translate helped me with a few other languages. I love you.  
**_

 _ **A special thank you to Honeybee Meadows who pre-read the first batch of chapters and told me to keep going. Love you, Bee.**_

 _ **I hope you will leave a farewell review - it would make me incredibly happy.**_

 _ **Until next time...**_


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